The HalfBlood Prince
by greeneyes117
Summary: Sequel to novel 'Lily and the Half-Blood Prince' Covers the last 2 years of Snape's life at Hogwarts. Canon-based. Snape's increasing involvement in the Dark Arts while still struggling to let Lily go. adventure, Angst Romance See my profile page for info
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: This fic is a sequel to the novel-length **_**Lily and the Half-Blood Prince**_** which covered the period from when Severus Snape and Lily Evans first met up until the end of their friendship in June 1976. Thus, there may be references to characters, places and events that occurred in the first novel which may be slightly confusing. **

**To prevent this I have tried, in the first chapters and wherever possible, to add some explanations. Those of you who have read the first fic may find them repetitive, but I think that overall, it helps in making this fic a stand-alone one. **

**For further information about the scope and 'canonicity' of this story, please read my profile page.**

**Chapter 1: Separation.**

The heat-drugged fly buzzed drunkenly around the dimly-lit room in erratic, ever-widening circles, the annoying noise louder in the unnatural, tense silence penetrating the bare floorboards and damp-stained walls of the shabby bedroom.

A greasy-haired teenager lay on his back on an unmade bed in the shadowed end of the room, one arm behind his head, so completely motionless and still, that one might be excused to think he was asleep, or dead even, for there was no sign of slow, rhythmic breathing. However, something about the taut lines of the thin figure belied that theory: the youth seemed to lie in the motionless expectancy indicative of a tightly-coiled spring, or an animal about to pounce. Closer observation would confirm that beneath thick, dark lashes and narrowed lids, black eyes glittered malevolently, following the movement of the buzzing fly as it mindlessly circled the stuffy air, coming finally to rest with a dry, rustling thud against the peeling wallpaper in a corner above the door.

He had a thin, pale face with high-cheekbones and a hooked nose that gave him a somewhat imperious, disdainful look. There were dark shadows under his eyes as though he hadn't slept in days, but it was the expression in them that was disconcerting: a dangerous, hard look that you wouldn't expect to find on such a young face. So young there was only a soft downy growth on his upper lip and along the delicate curve of his jaw line. He had a thin upper lip and a fuller, sensitive-looking lower lip, but both were now set in a grim line.

Severus Snape's pale face was rigidly still, but his eyes remained fixed on the tiny black spec now impudently washing its wings on the wallpaper. It was mid-afternoon and up until this moment, he had been sunk in the relatively calm, emotionless state of Occlumency, a disassociated level of consciousness that allowed him to endure the latest of his parents raging battles downstairs.

His father had been sent home due to the fact that he had been 'taken ill while at work', an ever more frequent euphemism to describe his inebriated state. Tobias Snape had always managed to hide the symptoms well for years, a shorter temper being the most notable difference, but after he had got into a brawl last summer, and been knocked unconscious for several days, he had never quite regained his previous control over his drinking, and his health had deteriorated even more rapidly, despite the magic potions his wife grudgingly concocted to try and stem the damage. That had been the reason for the flare up earlier on, for, with the unreasonableness of the confirmed alcoholic, instead of thanking his witch wife for the potions that were keeping him alive, he accused her that they were damaging his liver.

Eileen had been shocked out of her usual broken-spirited passivity into retaliating, for if there was one thing she had prided herself upon, it was her knowledge of Potions. The shouting match that had ensued rocked the small house at the bottom of Spinner's End to its very foundation, and Severus had forced his cringing, despairing mind into Occlumency, thereby escaping to a place devoid of the crippling hatred and vengeance that seeped like noxious fumes from downstairs through the very floor and walls of his room.

The resultant clarity of mind also gave him the opportunity to intervene, if necessary.

Luckily for his mother, Tobias was in too much pain to carry out the various threats that poured out of his mouth like poison, but insisted instead on going to the local doctors' clinic on the other side of town to get some 'proper, real medicine'. To Severus' disgust, he insisted Eileen accompany him, to see how a really scientific cure works.

They had just gone out, slamming the door behind them and leaving a reverberating silence in their wake that was so palpably unnatural, Severus could almost taste it. He reluctantly came out of his Occlumency state, waves of hatred and disgust and guilt, his parent's legacy, washing over him, forcing him to relive in detail their latest argument.

Why the bloody hell had Eileen agreed to go with him to the Muggle doctors? Did his father think that any stupid Muggle medicine was going to be of any use, when even magic potions could not repair the damage to his guts? If he was so intent on destroying himself, why did he want to take his mother down with him? Eileen was fragile enough as it is: alternating between bouts of fiery defiance and anger at her husbands' drinking, and, more often now, bouts of brooding silence, a manic depression at the downward spiral of her life and the hopelessness of it all. She seemed unable to take control and get herself out of the mess her life had become - or else she just didn't want to.

Severus cursed silently, as frustration grew inside of him. It was the end of July, and there were still six months left till he became officially of age. Once he did however, once he was allowed to do magic, he was going to lift himself and his mother out of this squalor, whether she liked it or not!

In the meantime, it was the most he could do to contain his anger and frustration in this stuffy, shabby room he was confined to.

The fly in the corner launched itself once more into a buzzing, erratic flight, but it was its last, for with a quick movement the teenager pointed the wand he held in his right hand and with a pencil-thin flash of light, the fly dropped dead on the floorboards in front of his bed.

Severus Snape's dark eyes narrowed as two more flies came into the room, the irritating sound of their buzzing duet grating on his still-raw senses. The narrow tip of his wand followed them relentlessly as they flew drunkenly in the sultry, heavy air.

Severus was thinking of his father when he shot down the first fly.

If only it was so easy…

If only it was so easy to get rid of someone who was destroying your life as well as his own… or to get rid of irritating gits that buzzed mindlessly around you in both Muggle and magic world.

And it was Potter's face he imagined as he shot down the second fly. It gave him a momentary feeling of satisfaction to see the miniscule black corpse as it fell out of the heavy air, dead. The feeling dissipated completely as Potter's name opened a floodgate of memories, none of them pleasant.

'Unpleasant' was an understatement: they were, rather, a searing, agonising collection of painful images that he wanted to avoid even thinking about, for fear they would hurt more. But Severus Snape's mind was not something that could ignore the facts, even if he wanted to. He had to analyse everything from the most trivial to the most brutal, and so he could not avoid recalling the memories of last June in vivid detail, again and again, especially here, in the close confines of his room with nothing to do and no school or lessons to distract him.

It had all started with Potter's humiliation on the day of his DADA exam, and had escalated into the worst day of his life when Lily Evans broke all contact with him in a way that brooked no argument. He couldn't _argue_ with her, or shout or get angry, for she treated all his attempts with a tone of infuriatingly calm politeness, a façade he never knew she was capable of maintaining.

Not that he had had much time to speak to her, even had she allowed it. He had only seen her a few times during their remaining OWL exams and she always ensured she would be surrounded by a tightly-knit pack of Gryffindor girls that looked belligerently at him whenever he came close.

Perhaps next year would be better, perhaps over summer she'd mellowed a bit and realised that he'd acted for her own good – that he still was acting for her own safety.

But he had no way of knowing, for he hadn't seen her all summer.

He'd avoided going to all their old haunts by the river, or anywhere near her house. He had promised himself he'd never again beg so humble for forgiveness as he had that night last June: to Lily Evans or anyone else! That was why he'd spent a lot of time confined to his bedroom stewing in the unhealthy air of Spinner's End. The few times he ventured out, he kept inadvertently glancing in the direction of Spencer Street, where she lived, wondering what she was doing … wondering if she was thinking about him, or else determinedly pushing him from her mind, and hoping against all hope to catch a glimpse of copper-red hair dancing in the sunlight, and see a flash of recognition in those green eyes!

It was _pathetic_!

So he had decided to spend the long weeks of July shut up in his room feeling like a caged animal, goaded by thoughts and feelings he was sure no caged animal, however poorly kept, had to deal with.

He scowled darkly at the ceiling above, as his tired brain revolved once more around that fateful night, when Lily Evans had kissed him for the last time and then determinedly disappeared from his life. There had never been a summer, in seven long years, that he hadn't spent without Lily at his side, except for a brief month-long separation in their third year, when Lily had accompanied her family on a holiday in France. That had been bad enough, but this was infinitely worse, and he hadn't even known what to do with himself this summer. He glanced over at the mountain of dark, leather-bound volumes on the desk. Even they seemed to have lost their allure, and were stacked haphazardly in precariously-leaning piles by the wall.

He sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, looking distastefully at the rumpled sheets. Lily Evans had once lain there on his bed, her dark red hair spread like a halo on his threadbare pillow, asleep. The pillow had held her smell for days after, and he had fallen asleep every day, imagining she held him in her arms, imagining…

He shook himself angrily and got off the bed, walking to the window to peer outside through the dark material of the curtains. A blinding sun seared his eyeballs, and he closed the curtain hurriedly. He must stop thinking of Lily, or he'd end up going to pieces! He desperately needed something to distract him, yet the only thing that was keeping him sane wouldn't be coming for a long time yet. Rosier and Rabastan kept up a regular correspondence, and even Avery and Wilkes had sent the odd note, but their Owls would only arrive in the dead of night, and that was still hours away.

He sighed and sat down heavily at his desk. A folded piece of parchment addressed to Evan Rosier was placed on top of scraps of parchment and some ink-stained quills. Rosier had invited him to spend the rest of the summer in the large crumbling estates of his ancestral home, and he had written an answer immediately, accepting the invitation. He had refrained from sending it by return Owl because he didn't want to appear too eager. Rosier knew that he could never return the favour. He wouldn't dream of letting anybody of his Hogwarts friends come over to Spinner's End. Who would want to spend any time at all in this hovel?

Well, Lily had – she had seen the squalor, the sad wrecks his parents had become, and though he had been surly and protested, she hadn't minded at all. She had not only made herself completely at home, but had helped him when his mother lay comatose from an overdose of Dreamless Sleep Potion.

_Merlin!_ Couldn't he just stop thinking about Lily for a second?

He scowled at the dust motes dancing on a sunbeam that, in spite of his best efforts, had penetrated the gloomy interior of his room. He wished it was night already so that he would hear the gentle flapping of the owls' wings against his window, signalling the arrival of more news from the world he felt he belonged to. Owls that would send his reply winging towards the Rosiers' and the reprieve they offered.

In a few days, he'd be leaving Spinner's End for Evan's majestic old mansion in the south of England. The next time he returned home , he would be officially an adult, and he was going to make bloody sure that there would be some permanent changes here at Spinner's End, whether his father or mother wanted it or not! With that one reassuring fact firmly lodged in his head, he turned to the tomes on Dark magic that littered his table, sat down and grimly pulled one of them towards him.

IIIIIIIII

She was very pale, her skin snow-white against the coppery vividness of her hair. Even the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose had faded. And she looked thin - unhealthily thin - he could see that clearly now.

He hadn't wanted to before. He hadn't wanted to see her. All during the trip on the Hogwarts' Express, and at the Beginning-of-term feast in the Great Hall, he had determinedly kept his eyes away from any Gryffindors, and from the Gryffindor table in particular, unwilling to catch the eyes of the one person he most wanted to look at.

But here, on the first day of school, and in Slughorn's first NEWT Potion class, there was no avoiding it. Only fifteen students had got the required grade in Potions (or wanted to continue at NEWT level) and Lily Evans was sitting at a table across the dungeon classroom with two Hufflepuff girls, in plain view. She had come in late and pointedly took a seat as far back in the classroom as possible.

There were only five tables with three students each, and he was with Bertram Aubrey and the Ravenclaw Prefect, John Paige, because Rosier had insisted on staying on a table with Nyneve and another Slytherin girl, no doubt to spend the time productively flirting with the two Pureblood witches. Then there was a table with three Ravenclaws, and one with the Marauders.

Not all the Marauders. Apparently that creep, Pettigrew, had not made the NEWT grade for Black, Potter and Lupin were alone. The whole classroom was filled with fumes from five cauldrons, each one standing on the floor next to each table, which had been arranged in a sort of wide semi-circle. A sixth cauldron, a small bench-top one, stood on Slughorn's desk, a golden liquid bubbling merrily within. Severus felt a twinge of something he hadn't felt in a long time: excitement. That was _Felix Felicis!_ He had heard about it, though never actually seen the potion. The ingredients were notoriously expensive, and the potion difficult and long to brew. His admiration for old Slughorn went up a reluctant notch. Knowing Slughorn's penchant for theatrics, the Potion master had probably placed it on his desk as a sort of _p__ièce de résistance__._

He glanced round to see where Professor Slughorn was. He was talking to one of the Ravenclaw girls, whom he recognised as a member of the Slug Club. Behind Slughorn's back, Sirius Black noticed him and made an obscene hand gesture that he ignored. After what happened last June, Severus knew that there would be an all-out war between him and the Marauders now that their OWLs were over. His eyes flew to Potter, but the be-spectacled Gryffindor was looking at Lily, frowning slightly.

A white-hot flash of anger sliced through Severus' mind, as he saw the direction of Potter's intent gaze. He'd do anything to foil that bastard's hideous intentions on Lily Evans. Why couldn't he lay off her? After all, she had made it abundantly clear, last June, that she didn't want anything to do with him! It was just like Potter and his damned arrogant over-confidence, to persist in looking at her!

Not that Lily was paying any attention. Her eyes were downcast and she was ignoring everybody around her, including the two chattering Hufflepuffs she was sharing a table with. A twinge of anxiety shivered through Severus. Why did Lily look so thin and pale? Surely it wasn't because of what happened last June? _She_ had wanted it after all! She had insisted that they had gone down divergent paths and there was nothing to do about it! Well, she might've been right to a certain point, for she wanted him to renounce the Death Eaters, and he could see no way of doing that without dire consequences, but _bloody hell_, he was there, just across the room from her – all she had to do was look up and _see him_, damn it!

But Lily's eyes remained fixed on the graffitied surface of her table, and she did not look up, but swayed slightly as she stood. It was only then that Severus noted the badge glinting on her chest. A _Prefect's_ badge! So Lily Evans had been made Gryffindor Prefect! The rumours about Alice Walker's resignation had been right. Well, apparently she had certainly been quite busy this summer!

But even his usual sarcasm couldn't work where Lily was concerned. Now he couldn't take his eyes off her, just as much as he had previously avoided it, and as he stared greedily at her, he could see that something was wrong, for she was becoming progressively paler, and those two Hufflepuff idiots near her hadn't even noticed! He grabbed his own table in a white-knuckled fist to resist the urge to just go over and ask her what the matter was, when Slughorn suddenly called the class to attention.

'Right!' he said 'Let's begin! You should have had enough time to examine the cauldrons near your tables, so now I want you to tell me what you think the potion inside them is!'

Lily looked up at the sound of Slughorn's voice, and, for a brief instant, green eyes met black, but then she looked away immediately with what Severus could only describe as a small shiver.

_Fuck! _He didn't know what to make of _that_! Lily moved closer to the cauldron as the two Hufflepuffs jostled her for a closer look at the softly shimmering potion near their table. He glanced contemptuously at the one by his own table: it was the Draught of Living Death. He could brew it with his eyes closed.

From the blank look on his face, Bertram Aubrey, the Slytherin Prefect next to him, obviously had no idea what it was. Aubrey was silently fuming as John Paige, a typical Ravenclaw know-it-all, very obviously knew, and was smugly waiting to be asked.

Severus' eyes swept the dungeon swiftly. There was Temporetiam, an Everlasting Elixir at the Ravenclaw's table; Polyjuice Potion at the Marauders; Veritaserum at Rosier's; and Lily was standing over a cauldron of …. Amortentia.

_Amortentia!_ How ironic! He recognised the mother-of-pearl sheen and the spiralling vapour. He had read about it and even knew how to brew it in theory, but had always refused to, despite several seventh-years begging him to, last year.

But last year had been different: he and Lily were still friends and he had entertained misguided hopes that they would always be friends … even more than friends. So he hadn't wanted to inflict a false love ( for that was what Amortentia was, in spite of all the seductive advantages claimed by many users) on anybody foolish enough to resort to it, for he himself had tasted true love, bittersweet though that experience had been. It was something even he himself could not easily explain, for he had brewed plenty an illicit and even dangerous potion in the past, and had no scruples on inflicting any of them on anyone who annoyed him.

Lily had once asked him, shortly before their OWL exams, why he hadn't ever brewed Amortentia or even a common Love Potion.

He had never answered her question.

'Well, let's start from this cauldron,' Slughorn was saying as he waddled predictably to cauldron containing the Love Potion. 'I'm sure Ms Evans can tell us what it contains.'

Lily was Slughorn's favourite, and he did not try very hard to hide it, smiling benevolently at her and completely ignoring the two Hufflepuffs at the same table.

Severus couldn't blame him - it was very clear that those two dunderheads had no idea what the Potion was, for they had sidled behind Lily, unwilling to show their ignorance. However, Slughorn slowed down indecisively as he approached her table for Lily was getting paler by the second as she stood over the softly-shimmering cauldron. Severus moved slightly so that he could look at her from behind Slughorn's stout figure, wondering what was wrong with her. Lily was seldom sick. What in Merlin's name was happening? And what was that look she cast him?

'It's Amortentia, Sir,' Lily said, in a barely audible voice. She cleared her throat and spoke a bit louder: 'Otherwise known as the world's strongest Love Potion'

'That's correct, Miss Evans,' Slughorn nodded, but his smile faltered as he looked intently at her pale face, 'Can you … er… tell the rest of the class how to recognise it?'

'You can recognise it by the characteristic spirals of its vapour and its' mother-of-pearl surface, and….' Lily swayed slightly, her eyes fixed on the large cauldron at her feet. '…and by the smell,' she ended.

Perhaps the smell was making her feel faint. But why? It was supposed to smell good...

'The smell of Amortentia will make you recall all that which is pleasant to you, all the things that you love…' Lily was saying, and there was an unmistakeable quiver in her voice now.

She looked up as she said that, but instead of Slughorn, her eyes looked beyond their teacher and caught his. He was instantly paralysed by what he saw in that fleeting look and couldn't tear his eyes away. But he wasn't mistaken, for although Lily looked back at Slughorn, who had started describing the potion's attributes, a pale flush rose in her cheeks, turning their previous paleness to a feverish red.

'This is one of the most potent potions to be found,' Slughorn was saying, turning half-round to face the rest of the class, 'Rather fiddly to brew and requiring some rather … er ... unorthodox ingredients, but when correctly done, it can induce a powerful, obsessive, passion; an all-consuming yearning for the object of your desires that will dictate everything you do, everything you think about, …yes, Mr Rosier?'

'You wouldn't ...uh …allow us a small sample to study, Sir? Just to make sure we recognise it?' Rosier grinned.

The Slytherin girls sitting next to Evan Rosier giggled.

'I expect you know my answer to that already, Mr Rosier.' Slughorn replied wryly, 'And knowing exactly the way the hormone-addled brains of my sixth-years work, I've put an Anti-thieving Jinx on the Amortentia Cauldron,' he continued with a sly smile, ' Besides, although I know some young wizards do not really care about anything beyond seducing the witch of their choice, I would have you all know that Amortentia produces only a strong infatuation – it does NOT produce true love: nothing can create or reproduce that mysterious force, isn't that right, Ms Evans? Ms Evans?'

Lily's eyes were closed as she stood over the Amortentia cauldron, swaying slightly. Her face was now as red as previously it had been deathly white.

'That's right, sir,' she murmured in answer to Slughorn's question, 'There is nothing like true love, Sir.'

She opened her eyes as she said this, and this time they unwaveringly held his. He froze as he saw that look in her eyes again: it was, somehow, defiantly fierce yet hauntingly sad at the same time, and went straight to his heart, setting it beating wildly. Slughorn had followed her gaze across the dungeon towards him and Severus knew that the old teacher, with his unerring nose for classroom intrigue, must have noticed they were sitting apart for the first time since their first year at Hogwarts. If Slughorn commented anything, he'd bite his head off, he'd ….!

But Slughorn had turned back to Lily.

'Are you feeling alright, m'dear?' Severus heard him ask in a low voice.

'Could I be excused the rest of the lesson, Sir? I'm not feeling very well,' Lily answered.

'Yes, certainly. Let Ms Dearborn accompany you to –'

'It's ok, sir, I'll manage on my own.' And with that Lily shouldered her bag and made her way silently to the door, all eyes following her.

Lily Evans had never ever missed class.

For a wild moment, Severus thought of feigning sickness so he could go after her, but he was hopeless at pretending such things, and it would look too suspicious anyway. But his heart was still thudding in his breast, for Lily had finally looked at him without that hateful blank politeness of last June.

Of course, he tried to interpret her expression in all the negative ways possible, (for Severus had a die-hard attitude of always expecting the worst), but, try as he might, he could not suppress the tiniest glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, she had not managed to repress all her feelings for him. Perhaps she loved him still.

She had said she always would that fatal night, but then, the next day, behaved as though he was a stranger, as though he was dead to her, even.

Perhaps the Amortentia had jogged her memory: he had read something about the strange effect of the curling spiral vapours of the potion. The idea took hold and he barely even noticed as Slughorn turned to their table, asking them to identify the potion in their cauldron and automatically turning an expectant face towards him. Severus ignored him, and was barely listening as the Ravenclaw Prefect eagerly jumped in to supply the required information. He ignored both the Ravenclaw's supercilious tone and the questioning, lingering look Slughorn was bestowing on him.

Had Lily been upset because of the artificiality of the Amortentia? But her voice, though low, had been steady when she affirmed that there was nothing like true love. And besides, she had already been very pale-looking when she came into class. Was it because she knew, like he did, that they'd have to face each other, finally? Unlike him, Lily usually wore her emotions on her sleeve, and barring those few days last June, she had always shown exactly what she was feeling.

When he had entered Slughorn's dungeon classroom that afternoon, he hadn't known what to expect from Lily, but certainly not this. He shifted uncomfortably, alternating between berating himself for being so stupid, and trying to suppress that most treacherous of feelings – hope – from raising its head in his breast again. After the holidays, Lily could just be worried about her father's delicate health … but then again, perhaps Lily had missed him, perhaps she had realised that they could not be apart, that their bond was special and indissoluble, and the Amortentia had just made her remember what she was insisting they should ignore…

He glanced down at his watch impatiently (the watch Lily had given him last birthday and that, despite everything, he still wore under the long sleeve of his robes). He just wanted the lesson to end. He needed to talk to Lily, _urgently_. To strike while the iron was hot, for if it was the Amortentia that had had that effect on her, then it wouldn't last. She probably wouldn't have gone to the Hospital wing, and was most likely in the Gryffindor tower. Or perhaps even in the Forbidden Forest, where she always went when upset.

He knew he was being stupid – very stupid – for even if the Amortentia had affected her, that didn't mean she wouldn't have her wits about her, and stand by what she had said several months ago: he had chosen his path and she hers, and once Lily got it into her head that she had to save somebody – in this instance, herself – there was no budging her.

Possibly he was the only one, in her eyes, whom she had failed to save.

He suppressed an impatient sigh as Slughorn set them to working on the Draught of Living Death. His hands reached out for his old _Advanced Potion Making_ book. He had spent all last year writing notes in it, but it was only this year that he was finally using it as a class text book. He opened the shabby book to find the right page and as he did so, the back cover fell open.

'_This is the property of the Half-Blood Prince'_ was scribbled at the bottom in his tiny, cramped handwriting.

With a bitter frown, he remembered that he too had made his own decisions and there was no way he was going to shirk those duties. Lily's future, as well as his own, depended on how well he played his part on the path that he had chosen. But chosen it he had, and he would have to remember that, even if he did manage, by some miracle, to shock Lily out of her pretended indifference.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Rat.**

The hoar frost had spread its spiky fingers all across the mullioned windows of the Library, as though eager to reach the huddled students inside with its icy grip. The crisp whiteness on the window pane left a patterned promise of a more intense cold yet to come, even though it was still November. Severus Snape gave a cursory glance at the grey morning outside, then stood up, gathered his books, and left the Library, several pairs of eyes following him to the door, as well as hushed whispers.

It had always been that way since his first year, when Potter and Black had planted a hexed broomstick on him and he had retaliated with a dark magic spell that had even the teachers scratching their heads. Students had started looking at him warily then, though he had been careful not to repeat the same mistake openly. But the whispers, the rumours, continued to dog his footsteps, especially after the trouble he got into with the last of the Knights of the Walpurgis in his fourth year. And last year… last year his knowledge of ancient magic had grown and there had been a steady increase in the respect with which he and his Slytherin friends were regarded, until …

His mind veered away sharply from the white-hot patch of pain that was implanted like a poisonous canker in his memory. But he couldn't help going back to that memory, forcing himself to study its painful details over and over again, as though by doing so he could wear the memory down to nothing. He only implanted it more firmly of course: the jeering laughter sounding louder, the details of Potter and Black's upside-down faces, Pettigrew's excited eagerness, appearing even more clearly than they had when he had hung between earth and sky that day.

Something of the rage he felt must have shown on his face for two small Hufflepuffs who had just come round the corridor, almost colliding straight into him, actually fell back in fright. The girl gave a small shriek, looking up at him with frightened rabbit-eyes and the other Hufflepuff dropped his books.

_Hufflepuffs._ He snorted in disgust, scowled at them even more darkly, then swept off, his anger driving him to take the third floor staircase three steps at a time. Students were careful to jump out of his way.

They had better, if they knew what was good for them! Last June, in a haze of violent rage at Potter's humiliation, he had completely lost control when he retaliated. The crowd of hyenas who had gathered there to see the spectacle of him being stripped naked by Potter had felt the brunt of his fury, for he unleashed a hellish black fire that was seen from miles around, and sent a lot of the bloody bastards to the hospital wing. He had avoided being expelled by the skin of his teeth and almost lost his chance to sit for the rest of his OWLs that day.

He also lost a friendship that was infinitely more important than OWLs.

However, his spectacular retaliation was partly the reason why, this year, the whispering had intensified, and the look in the many curious pairs of eyes that followed his every move was fearful, as well as wary. They always looked away hastily lest he caught them staring. He allowed himself a small smirk as he crossed the Entrance Hall towards the door that led to the dungeons. Potter might have succeeded in humiliating him, but the effect of his retaliatory spell had left a deep impression, and most students, even foolhardy Gryffindors, were careful not to sneer at him openly! Dark Magic certainly had its uses - in more ways than one!

He strode swiftly and silently down the sloping, torch-lit passageways. He was on his way to his dungeon hideout in the lower levels. The torches were not lit that far down in the castle's bowels, but by now he could find his way around the labyrinthine passageways blindfolded.

Which was a good thing, because his reputation for brewing potions had also grown, as well as the rumours that he kept a stash of them hidden somewhere. Well, he _did_ have a stash of them, and he would not put it past some of the senior Slytherins, themselves familiar with the dungeons, to try and follow him. In fact, he had more than potions and potion ingredients hidden away in an abandoned old dungeon storeroom deep beneath Hogwarts Castle, in the lower levels of the maze of passageways and tunnels there: he had collected several dark magic objects, as well as illicit potion ingredients and many tomes on dark magic, including the first of his Great-grandfathers' three books on Dark magic, the one no-one had discovered. (The other two were locked up in Dumbledore's office).

Severus Snape also had some very strange, secret things hidden away there: things that no-one who knew him would ever imagine him as having. These, together with his Great-grandfathers book, were his most treasured possessions, and were hidden in a secret compartment behind a store cupboard in this dungeon hideout.

Surprisingly, these prized objects were completely un-magical and mundane in nature: several notes on Muggle paper and pieces of parchment all written by the same hand - girlish and round on the Muggle papers; spikier, untidier and smaller on the parchments. Lily Evans' handwriting from the time when they had first met, till last year: seven years' worth of them, all carefully hoarded away inside a small, stone-sealed cavity behind a cupboard. They were, together with some other unorthodox odds and ends, a testimony to their long friendship, and only he and he alone, knew of their existence.

He glimpsed the Ephimeral Door as he strode swiftly down the passageway. Its presence signalled the beginning of the lower levels of the dungeons: dark, narrow and tunnel-like with a myriad other secret rooms and corridors no single wizard could ever hope to discover in one lifetime. The mysterious iron-clad Ephimeral door was on the right side of the corridor today. At other times its ornate, rune-inscribed frame was on the left side: it changed, Severus suspected, according to the phase of the moon, and guarded the entrance to Salazar Slytherin's office and old living quarters. It had nothing to do with the legendary Chamber of Secrets mentioned in _Hogwarts: a History_: no-one knew where _that_ was. But Slughorn, and presumably the rest of the teachers, knew about the Ephimeral Door, as did some of the older students who had ventured down here. But in recent years at least, no-one had gone through the Ephimeral door.

No-one except him and Lily.

Salazar Slytherin had left Hogwarts after a bitter fight with the other founding members, so he had left his living quarters well-guarded by ancient magic spells. He and Lily had almost lost their lives in there when Salazar's room sensed Lily's blood status and its old, but still-effective defences were triggered into action.

Severus frowned as he strode deeper down the curving passageway, the enveloping darkness of the unlit passageway enshrouding him as completely as his own darkening thoughts were clouding his mind. During that particular adventure, Lily Evans had been at his side.

Now more than two months had passed since that first Potion lesson wherein he had observed how pale and thin Lily had become. He never got to find out what had upset her and whether the Amortentia fumes had had anything to do with it, for Lily had managed to avoid him. She always sat well away from him in the lessons they shared, and now that they were NEWT students, the lessons they shared were less in number. During those lessons that they _did_ share, she very pointedly avoided even _looking_ in his direction!

Severus, infuriated, tried to convince himself that he didn't care, or conversely, that he'd _force _her to speak to him. But as the days wore on, he never found the opportunity. She persisted in pretending he didn't exist, and he was sure that if he tried to approach her, he would be treated with the same polite indifference like last June.

So he watched her like a hawk, from afar, repressing the helpless turmoil inside him, trying to understand what was going on in Lily's mind. Madeira had taught him, years ago, that he had to work hard at reading people's emotions before he could read their minds or correctly interpret what Legilimency permitted him to see.

Lily was back to her old self now, and she had lost the gaunt look she had in September. She carried out her Prefect duties conscientiously, as he knew she would: friendly but firm with everyone, and kind to the younger ones, especially Muggleborns who were completely clueless about their new magical surroundings. She was very short-tempered with those she perceived to be bullies, docking points so savagely, (and sometimes at wandpoint), that even her Gryffindor counterpart, Remus Lupin, sometimes intervened to calm her down. Her attitude to Potter was unchanged, and she scowled angrily at him whenever he tried to joke or speak to her, as the over-confident, self-important bastard still persisted in doing, in spite of her public rejection a few months before. Perhaps Potter was so irrepressibly jaunty because he, Severus, was now out of the picture. No doubt Potter had realised he and Lily were no longer on speaking terms.

He sighed in frustration as he slowed down his pace. The tunnel-like corridors here were hewn out of the bare rock in places and the floor was broken and uneven. Lily was certainly back to her old self, except for her increased harshness to bullies, and the fact that she was pretending he didn't exist! He had thought Lily incapable of hiding her emotions, but she had proved him wrong! Unpredictable though she could sometimes be, he had never imagined she could be this good at hiding her feelings.

If that was what she was doing after all: perhaps she had suppressed them so much they had faded, or been atrophied out of existence. Perhaps she really _did _believe he meant nothing to her! She was trying hard enough, damn it all!

With a growl of frustration he whirled the wand above his head, non-verbally casting a Disillusionment Charm over himself. He couldn't be too careful. After Slughorn's first Potions class, there had been renewed clamour from many fellow students for the various wondrous new potions they had learnt about. He had been assailed for a whole week by some Slytherin girls who wanted Amortentia, and the Hufflepuff Quidditch team Captain had offered him 50 galleons for some Felix Felicis.

He refused both requests, but if someone foolhardy enough had to follow him down to the dungeons to see where, exactly, he brewed his potions…

He finally reached the dark narrow tunnel at the end of which was the door with elaborate metal hinges that hid the entrance to his hideout. With a final look behind his shoulders, he took a careful step forward, feeling a sudden cold shiver as he passed through the magical barrier he and Lily had created to repel intruders, when his Great-grandfathers' book was being sought by the sinister Knights of the Walpurgis. In spite of their quarrel, and the particular brand of magic they had used to set it up (a rare form of magic only he and Lily could unleash through the combined use of their wands) - the magical barrier was still strong. Then placed his hand on the thick wooden door and pushed.

He knew immediately that something was wrong.

It was not only the unmistakeable stench of dungbombs that pervaded the dimly-lit, low-ceilinged room, but there was something _wrong_. Very, very, wrong.

Instincts long-honed to expect the worst, he held up his wand as his eyes struggled to penetrate the gloom, for the torches were unlit, and the only light filtered in through a small, barred window high up in one corner of the room.

His heart was beating faster, but he was still under a Disillusionment Charm. He moved silently and carefully to peer behind the desks and piles of broken furniture. There was no-one: there couldn't _be_ anyone! The magical barrier at the door still held, he was sure of that! The dungeon hideout wasn't very big and it was completely silent except for the soft scurrying of mice, which he was used to. But the usual smell of tallow, herbs and other familiarly pleasant smells of potion ingredients was completely masked by the foul smell of dungbombs.

Someone or something had been here, but a hastily-cast _Homenum revelio_ spell revealed he was alone. Pointing his wand at the torches on the wall they burst into flame, and a second later he lifted the Disillusionment Charm off himself.

It was then that he discovered his loss, for he hadn't seen it well in the dark. He felt the blood drain from his face.

The small secret compartment he had created by removing one of the stones behind a cupboard was open, half its contents spilling out onto the floor. He ran over and threw himself down on his knees, reaching out with trembling hands to lift some tattered old parchment off the floor.

They were in _ruins_! All of Lily's notes to him, even her one letter, were gnawed and chewed to bits, as was his Great-grandfathers secret book '_The Dark Arts'_!

He knew that kind of damage well enough: only mice and rats reduced paper and parchment to shreds that way! But mice and rats could not lift the heavy grey stone that normally sealed the secret compartment, - you needed a wand for that, and besides – he gave a quick look around- nothing else was disturbed. Usually vermin always made a beeline for some of his more edible potion ingredients, like plant roots and seeds that he stored in jars on the highest shelves: they never bothered with his books! This was different, this was a _studied _attack!

But _mice_?

He took up the one letter Lily had written to him, trying to still his shaking hand. He had got it here from Spinner's End, assuming it would be safer than at home. Nothing was left of it: it was just chewed-up tatters barely holding together. Even as he looked at it, the bottom part, where Lily's love had once been written, crumbled away and the papery shreds fell dustily in his lap.

His vision blurred momentarily, but a second later he became aware of the pounding of his heart and he started scrabbling frantically in the small compartment, assessing the damage. He recognised some of the teeth-marks in the parchment: this wasn't mice, this was done by a _rat_- a big one! His hands finally fell upon what he was looking for: a slender dark ribbon of red hair in the furthest corner of the small compartment. Lily's hair. She had given it to him back in their Fourth-year, to make a special version of Invisible Ink. He cradled the soft lock of hair gently in his hand. It was untouched, having probably slipped off the book he had placed it on when the rat started its rampage. Placing it carefully in the inside pocket of his robes, he hastily surveyed the rest of the damage. His great-grandfather's book was badly mauled, but he could probably repair some of it. Lily's notes seemed to have borne the brunt of the rat – or rats' – berserk attack. There was no way he could repair that kind of damage to the small bits of parchment sand muggle paper, some of them already several years old!

But why in Merlin's bullocks would a rat want to destroy his letters? It couldn't be an ordinary rat…

As if he had expressed his thoughts out loud, there was a sudden scurrying movement from the far end of the room which brought Severus to his feet. He was used to the tiny rustlings of mice, but this scuffling noise was louder, heavier – a _rat!_

He saw it then, sitting on its haunches and regarding him insolently out of cunning, bright eyes. A white-hot rage filled him at the sight of the animal that had destroyed something he felt was beyond precious, and he pointed his wand at the rat. He wasn't even thinking when he choked out '_Crucio_!', intending to make it feel just how angry he was, but the rat jumped out of the way just in time and his spell hit the damp grey wall, its force causing shards of hard granite to splinter away in all directions.

The rat scurried up some piled-up broken furniture in the corner of the room as fast as its little legs could carry it, as though it knew exactly what kind of spell was heading its way, and then scrabbled frantically at the wall just beneath the small barred window. Severus leapt after it but reached the window just in time to see its thick, naked tail disappearing between the bars. Swearing loudly, he climbed precariously on the broken furniture and peered out through the bars of the small window.

The rat was nowhere in sight, and there was nobody beneath the small dungeon window, for it opened a few yards above the lake surface in the cliff face beneath Hogwarts castle. The cliff face was pock-marked with enough crevices and fissures to provide ample hiding places for anything as small as a rat.

But this was no _ordinary_ rat. Severus was sure of that now. And rats could swim …

However, the lake surface reflected the grey skies in mirror-like perfection, and nothing disturbed its glassy surface except where, in the far distance right across the lake, a big black dog was climbing out of the water, sending small ripples across the surface. The huge dog walked a few paces towards the dark trees of the Forbidden Forest where they encroached upon the lake's edge, shook the water from its fur and then loped off between the trees, where the early morning mist soon swallowed it.

Severus drew back from the window, still clutching his wand, as a myriad thoughts and theories crowded his mind. He had never bothered to seal that window, being so inaccessible, but he had blocked it with cushions, so that at night no light would reveal the rooms' whereabouts from Hogwarts grounds. The cushions had been pushed inwards and the small roughly-made glass window, probably constructed long after the original function of the dungeon had changed, was wide open.

No rat could do that. And no rat could have opened the secret compartment.

On closer observation he saw wide scuff-marks disturbing the thick layer of dust on the window ledge. He could also see mud smears on the jutting cliff wall visible beneath the barred window.

Someone had been here! Someone who had rested his elbows on the ledge, pointed a wand through the bars of the window and opened the secret compartment where he stored his most precious treasures! Someone must have swum across the lake and climbed up the cliff face- it was difficult, but not impossible, for the window wasn't too high above the surface. Not being able to climb in through the barred window, they must have used a trained rat to carry out the destruction. Or perhaps they'd Imperious'd the rat: animals could easily (and not illegally) be put under the Imperius Curse.

He first thought of Mulciber: the burly seventh-year had quite a reputation for experimenting with _that _particular Unforgiveable Curse! But no-one knew of his secret compartment: not even Lily!

And how the hell did they know about that window? How did they know even know about the_ room_? Only he and Lily knew about it, and the magical barrier was designed to let only them in and repel all others.

Whoever it was, knew not only about this room, but also that the only available access was through the barred window! Someone knew that the door to the hideout was protected by the Sealing Spell, a magic barrier.

And only someone who had been inside the room could know that the window was the only weak spot.

Apart from himself, only Lily had ever been allowed inside. And the attack had been carried out on his Great-Grandfather's book '_The Dark Arts'_ and on the evidence of their past friendship! Could Lily have told someone about his secret hideout? There was no other explanation. He shook his head feeling dizzy and slightly sick at the direction his thoughts were leading him. He made his way shakily down the stack of furniture, his mind still reeling with the thought.

But then Lily did not know about the hidden compartment! Only he knew about that and he hadn't opened it since last June!

He couldn't bring himself to. He remembered it had felt he was burying a part of himself when he had come down here on the last day of term and placed his Great-grandfather's book on Dark Arts and all of Lily's notes and her letter to him in that hidden compartment! At the time he was still in shock from Lily's rejection, knowing she would never come through the dungeon door again, but he had been determined to move on with his life, so, in secret and unwatched, he had opened the secret compartment…

Wait a second… not unwatched: a dirty great rat had been looking at him through cunning eyes that day, as he hid away his treasures. A _rat_! He tried to recall the rat: it was large and brown with no outstanding features he could think of, except that it _understood._ It understood he was about to hex it even before he took out his wand, as though it could read his expression. It was exactly the same like the one he had just chased out of the window, and it had the same glittering, cunning eyes. Only three students he knew had pet rats, for they were not very popular as pets, and all of the pet rats were black-and-white, sleek, magical rats …

All of them except… Peter Pettigrew's brown rat!

Suddenly, many things clicked into place as his mind raced ahead, colligating random facts and events: who else would be interested to destroy Lily's notes? Potter obviously, because he was interested in Lily and would therefore love the opportunity to destroy evidence of her interest in anyone else! And Pettigrew was in league with him! He'd let Potter borrow his rat and he must have found a way to climb the cliff face and shove the rat through the barred window!

That rat had come in through the door last June, for the Magical Barrier did not work on vermin, and it had seen him open the secret compartment! It must have somehow _shown _Potter that there was something hidden there!

But then again, what was Pettigrew's rat doing last June lurking in his hideout? It couldn't have been there by coincidence! And it couldn't have followed him: he always used a Disillusionment Charm whenever he reached the lower levels of the dungeons. His mind was dragged back unwillingly to the only remaining horrible explanation: even if Pettigrew's rat had made it through the room, it was an _animal_: it couldn't _explain _that the only weak, unprotected point was the small barred window - only someone who had been _inside_ the room could do that. And since only he and Lily could enter the room...

His mind raced ahead seizing upon fact after sickening fact: Lily must have told one of the Marauders about the room and how to get in, and Potter must've used that rat to sniff out even more of the room's secrets!

His mind blanked out in cold fury. How _could_ she? How could she have breathed a word about his hideout? And to _Potter_? Suddenly all the frustration and rage that had been building up over the past five months at her cold indifference, her continued determination in ignoring his existence, spilt over. He didn't even stop to ask himself _why _she would want to do that: whether it was because of her new status as Prefect, or whether she just wanted to get a message across that he now meant less than nothing to her, and that she was starting her self-righteous crusade against budding Death Eaters right here at Hogwarts – he just marched out of the dungeon, slamming the heavy door behind him so hard that it rattled on its elaborately-decorated hinges!

Clutching his wand in a white-knuckled grip, he ran swiftly through the dark passageways, not bothering to Disillusion himself – anyone catching a glimpse of his expression would stir clear of him. He didn't care about the different possible reasons behind the break-in, the many questions - right now, all he wanted was some bloody _answers_!

And he was going to damn well get them! It was late morning and he knew where Lily would be at this time. He was going to shake the bloody truth out of her, and if she tried to use that polite tone with him, he'd - !

With a low growl of anger, he furiously slashed his wand at a couple of unoffending doors in the upper levels of the dungeon, slamming them shut, the angry sparks from his wand leaving scorch-marks on the wood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Confrontations.**

Lily walked slowly along the third floor corridor, eyes and ears wide open for the slightest hint of mischief, for it was soon lunchtime and that was when the corridors were most busy on a Saturday.

It wasn't the mischief that bothered her: with so many wand-laden students eager to while away the weekend with something more interesting than homework, mischief was inevitable, but it was the _type_ of mischief that bothered her. There had been an increase in attacks on Muggleborn students, especially younger ones who were not as yet so well-equipped to fight back. After the third episode of severely-jinxed students ending up in the hospital wing, the Heads of House had given the Prefects the extra duty of patrolling the corridors during certain hours, something Lily had already been doing on her own initiative anyway.

The War had intensified and many students were feeling the brunt of it, as relatives and the grown-up members of their family were slowly, but inexorably, sucked into the fighting, on one side or other of the two warring factions, so students were becoming increasingly polarised both in their beliefs, and, consequently, their behaviour.

Lord Voldemort's ranks were swelling at an alarming rate, though she'd heard that coercion tactics were responsible for that. She'd also heard that the Ministry had been infiltrated, but the culprits found and sent to Azkaban without trial. The more powerful Voldemort became, the more brutal the Ministry's retaliatory measures, spearheaded by Barty Crouch, Head of the Law Enforcement, who had made himself a reputation even more notable than that of the Minister for Magic himself.

Giggling laughter came from the moving stairs leading to the third floor. It did not have the jeering tone she knew would mean trouble, but she decided to investigate anyway. She found a small first-year witch wedged tightly in the trick step halfway up the staircase. Two of her friends had her by the arms and were trying to pull her out, but their giggling made them more of a hindrance than a help. She went down to them and with a wave of her wand released the girl, telling her to remember it was the fifth step from the bottom. The girls tittered their thanks and proceeded downstairs for lunch.

The corridors were filling up now and Lily knew most clashes occurred between Slytherins and members of other houses, especially in the less frequented parts of the first-floor corridors, where most people had to pass on their way to the Great Hall or outside the castle.

She directed her steps towards the first floor. Remus would be patrolling the route from Gryffindor common-room, protecting the younger ones, but she preferred to be around the first-floor during lunch break, to prevent the worst of the bullying before it got out of hand.

Another reason was that she absolutely hated the targeted attack on Muggleborns, she herself being one, and she wanted to defend her right and theirs to the magical life. Some of the first-years especially had been terrorised by the Pureblood hatred into wanting to go back home. They were too young to realise that they wouldn't fit in, in Muggle world even less than the magical one, especially if Voldemort won the war!

She walked down a second floor corridor past some creaking suits of armour and towards the shortcut, hidden behind a tapestry, that she always took to get to the first-floor. Last week, she had caught some fourth-year Slytherins tormenting young Muggleborns again, and yesterday she had arrived just in time to prevent the retaliatory ambush the Hufflepuffs had prepared for a group of unsuspecting Slytherins.

She had refrained, at first, from patrolling anywhere near the Slytherin common-room, or even anywhere near the dungeons, but the niggling guilt had kept her awake at night, because she knew for a fact that the Slytherin Prefect Nyneve would condone any hexes or jinxes fired at Muggleborns there, though Bertram Aubrey might be a bit more fair.

So she had steeled herself to do it, dreading at any moment to find herself face to face with the one Slytherin student she was trying so desperately to ignore: Severus Snape. And ignore him she had managed to: magnificently!

It hadn't been easy. The last week of June was a blur in her memory. He had tried to speak to her again after that night, but she had been in shock, answering him mechanically and unemotionally, all the while clinging desperately with every fibre of her being to her resolution: she would not be led down the path that he was so insistent on going down.

Then summer had come: a bleak time at home, mostly spent locked in her room, venturing out only to be faced with her sisters' snide remarks or hear her parents' worried questions, about why she wasn't eating, why she looked so pale, why she wasn't going out….

She often caught herself looking in the direction of the river, the distant Mill chimney, like a dark sentinel, forebodingly reminding her of the now insurmountable distance that existed between her and the last small house at Spinner's End: what was he doing now? How was he coping with his parents' troubles? Had she pushed him further along that abhorrent path by her rejection? Did he regret his choice, or was he secretly relieved she was out of the way, so his path to Voldemort was clear? What were the details of Voldemort's plan for her, a Muggleborn? She suspected it involved the mysterious and rare (but very powerful) brand of magic only she and Severus could unleash together. There could be no other explanation, but she wasn't really sure. And why was she even _thinking_ about Severus when she could hear her father's wheezing breath downstairs, and her mother wore a permanent worried frown because of her husband's worsening heart condition, as well as her sister's imminent departure to London to take up a typing job?

She spent sleepless nights and dreary days going over these questions in her head. She wished, and hoped against all hope, that Severus would appear one day on her doorstep, telling her he had renounced all ambition of joining the Death Eaters, that she was more important to him than whatever Voldemort had to offer. She imagined different ways this little scenario could happen: a touching moment of forgiveness, of tenderness, and yes, of passion, too: she was sixteen years old after all, and had tasted for the briefest moments, the burning desire of a lover's kiss, so now her body yearned for the physical closeness, for _more_. And however differently she fantasised about this scenario, it always ended in the same way: Severus would finally whisper to her the words that had been wrung out of her so painfully last June: _I will love you , always_.

She knew she shouldn't, but she replayed this scene over and over in her mind, as though doing so could make it real. It was childish of her, for she knew that after the wishful dreaming, the awful memories, the harsh reality, would return with a vengeance even crueler than before.

And of course, Severus never appeared or made contact. But _God_, how she missed him! It was like a physical pain tearing at her inside, so that sometimes she'd curl up in a foetal ball on her bed, eyes wide open and unblinking, not caring about any of her resolutions... not caring about anything except the fact that she felt hollow inside, and nothing could fill that void now that Severus was not in her life anymore.

Finally, when she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, Mary Macdonald phoned with a proposal. She accepted Mary's invitation to spend a week in her highland home. Thalia and Jenny were there too and for brief moments she forgot her worries in the general tumult four teenage girls could cause. Her friends had been eager to gossip about events last June but Lily had made it stubbornly clear, as she had then, that she did not want to discuss it. They desisted and Lily found she could be distracted from thinking about her troubles during the day.

But during the night it was a different matter.

Her father's health returned to haunt her, making her feel guilty for even being there. That, and the thought that she would soon have to face Severus again after the holidays. They still shared lessons after all. The guilt and worries would come rushing back, enveloping her, and after a few sleepless nights she told Mary she wouldn't be staying the whole week and returned home almost as dejected as when she had left.

However, once home she was greeted by a letter from Hogwarts telling her she had been chosen Prefect instead of Alice Walker who had left Hogwarts for good. It was a relief to have something to focus on. In fact, when boarding the Hogwart's Express she had been inundated with advice and information about her new duties and responsibilities from the Head Boy and Head Girl, so she hadn't had time to even think of the one person she most wanted to avoid. The first days were very busy and she threw herself into her new duties with more enthusiasm than was necessary, thereby avoiding having to think about meeting Severus.

She was brought down to earth with a bump during their first shared lesson: Potions. She had expected it to be tough and had steeled herself to go through the lesson with her mind firmly on her work, but what she hadn't expected was a cauldronful of Amortentia right under her nose! Though she knew in theory what it looked like, she had never seen or smelt the famous love potion: she hadn't expected that the effects could be so overwhelming – never expected that she could smell and almost _feel_ the familiarity of Severus envelope her like it had once: comforting, yet, at the same time, electrifying; she never expected the myriad sensations that the Amortentia awakened in her. It made her dizzy with an aching, yearning feeling she knew she had to master, especially since the object of such emotion was standing a few yards away across the dungeon classroom! It made her forget all her previous resolutions and look across at Severus.

She wished she hadn't. His dark eyes bored into hers accusingly, fiercely, reminding her of all that had passed between them as though it was yesterday and the ache inside her turned into an exquisite sadness that Slughorn's questions prodded cruelly. She had left then before the last vestiges of determination completely deserted her.

She had never again let herself be so weak.

She had stirred clear of Severus Snape completely, and never ever once looked in his direction again, even during shared lessons. It was more difficult to stop _thinking_ about him, but she tried, pushing him out of her mind whenever her thoughts deceitfully turned in his direction which they did constantly at first. But she soon became adept at turning her thoughts to other things: now that she was at Hogwarts there was far more to occupy her time and mind.

She had arrived at the tapestry that hid the shortcut to the first floor so she turned and gave a final glance over her shoulder to see if everything was normal. The staircase and corridor were deserted now, for most students were down in the Great Hall for lunch.

She allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She had come a long way since that first potion lesson. She felt sure now that she could successfully concentrate on what was important: with an ongoing war and Muggleborn rights at stake, she couldn't afford to go to pieces. Her secret love and her secret pain were to remain exactly that: _secret! _Perhaps if she ignored Severus Snape for long enough, she could forget – or well – not forget, that was impossible, - but perhaps she could numb the pain that sometimes, in quiet moments alone, still threatened to overwhelm her.

She was well on her way to succeeding with that now, for she found she could turn her mind easily to anything that needed doing, anybody that needed helping, and her Prefect position was perfect for that sort of thing. It gave her direction and purpose and stopped her thinking about the 'what might have been'.

Still smiling faintly, she lifted the tapestry and slipped inside the dark, narrow corridor beyond.

A tall, thin shadow, darker than the gloom of the corridor itself blocked her path at the far end of the narrow passageway, and she drew her breath in sharply. Then the shadow came in swift, silent strides towards her. Her blood froze, for she'd recognise that silhouette, that gliding, cat-like walk anywhere:

Severus!

_Oh, God!_ Her jaunty confidence of a few moments before completely abandoned her and she felt herself quake slightly. No, no, _no_ – she couldn't do this! Something in his purposeful strides told her this wasn't a coincidence. He had been waiting for her.

'Hello, Lily.'

But when he spoke, it was in a tone that she did not expect – not that she had any idea _what_ to expect - but certainly not a voice that dripped icicles and hatred! She was taken completely taken aback.

'W- what?' she stuttered.

But it was only now that he was standing right before her that she realised how gaunt and thin he looked. The light that filtered in from beneath the tapestry threw his face in stark black and white shadow as he looked down at her, and a hellish fire burned in his dark eyes. She was very familiar with that look: he was angry. Very, _very _angry!

'Which one of those four bloody bastards did you tell about the dungeon hideout?' he spat out, pushing so close to her that she actually took a step backward.

It took her a moment to realise what he was talking about.

'What dungeon–? Oh ... no-one!' she exclaimed, surprised.

'Well, 'no-one' has just been down there and destroyed my things!'

'How could they? It's sealed!'

Severus said nothing for a moment but gave her a cold, hard look.

'How d'you know that?' he said, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper, 'It was sealed using our Combined magic! How do you know it would still work after – ?'

He stopped, and she bit her lip, knowing what he was alluding to. She hadn't thought about it. That spell had been so special. It was cast using both their wands, simultaneously, so that their magic was shared and enhanced, sealing the door to the hideout to all but themselves. No other two people had used magic like that and lived to tell the tale, but for them (and very few others in wizarding history), the power of magic flowed and grew between them. It was a rare kind of magic, and little-understood, that they had first discovered in their second-year. But most of all, it was during the casting of that particular spell that she had realised….

She took a deep breath, dragging her mind away from that direction - she had to get a grip on herself!

'Anyway, whoever it was didn't get in through the door,' he was continuing, his voice rising angrily once more, 'the bastards got in through the only unguarded and unprotected point in that room: the window!' his eyes bored into hers, 'And only someone who's been inside that room would know about it!'

'What the hell are you saying, Severus Snape?' she retorted, bristling angrily.

How could he think she would be so base as to tell anyone about a place she had once looked at as a sort of refuge, a secret they shared? It had been an exciting and interesting haven before he had turned it to more occult purposes, but she had certainly never told anyone about it.

She remembered once, when they had stumbled upon the Fat Friar's Death Day Party, she had been angry and frightened at the ghost's revelation of his Great-grandfather's secret dabbling in dark magic, and she had told him some people deserve to be betrayed: hasty words which she instantly regretted and apologised for. Perhaps it was those words he was remembering now.

But she'd never tell anyone about that dungeon, and she had entirely forgotten about the window. Severus used to keep it blocked.

'The windows are barred, anyway!' she heard herself say, 'How could anyone get in that way?'

'It was Pettigrew's rat!' he hissed, 'I saw it! Someone climbed up and shoved it in through the bars of that window – I saw the signs - and it chewed to pieces all my most precious stuff! Like my Book: the one _you _hated so much!'

'So you think I told Pettigrew or someone else of the Marauders to climb up the cliff face just to destroy your stupid book?' she said, her voice rising shrilly, 'Yes, I _do_ hate that book! It was what first got you into the Dark Arts! But it was too late even by the time I realised you had it here at Hogwarts! I would've destroyed that damned thing myself, if I knew it would've made any difference! But it wouldn't have. Not then, and even less now!'

Her voice had risen to a shout, but it quivered on the last words. He had been leaning menacingly over her, but he moved slightly back now, and she saw something shift behind his eyes as her words reverberated loudly in the narrow space. She bit her lip, angry with herself for losing her cool and undoing all the work she had put into placing all of this behind her. Severus was just sore at losing that damned book, and here she was, bemoaning the loss of something far more important!

Her face set in grim lines as she took a couple of deep breath to calm herself. She would not be cowed or made to feel guilty over something she hadn't done! She was hurt that Severus had thought her capable of giving away his secret: it had been _their_ secret once, after all. She had to harden her heart before she lost all the equilibrium she had strived so hard to achieve.

'Moreover,' she continued, struggling to get her voice back into a more even tone, 'Peter's pet rat died in the beginning of last year. He was very cut up about it: it was a common garden rat and died of old age during the winter.' There - she had managed to speak calmly, even politely, though Severus's eyes were darkening once more, 'Now, if you have nothing else to say that requires my attention, Snape, I have to continue my patrol – '

She had started to push past him, but before she could even finish her words, he had grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall. She gasped and froze, taken by surprise.

'What the fuck was that you called me, Lily?' he snarled, his face inches from hers.

She realised she was holding her breath. First of all because she saw that beneath the hard words and the anger in those dark eyes, there was a hurt, a pain at her coldness, that he could not quite disguise. It made her think that perhaps, he was just as fragile as she was inside, and she mattered to him at least as much as the book did. But there was something else that was making her feel dry-mouthed and unable to breath. His close proximity, after such a long time, was having a strange effect on her and a fluttery, aching feeling was welling up deep inside her. Wild, forbidden thoughts and wishes crossed her mind, uncontrollable and completely illogical, given that he was still holding her pinned to the wall. _He was holding her pinned to the wall_. Slowly her brain started to catch up with what was happening, and she was furious with herself. He was a budding Death Eater! And she was a _Prefect_, for Merlin's sake!

Any other Prefect would have confiscated that damned book on Dark Arts, and probably all the other '_precious stuff'_ he mentioned. But she had stood lamely by, being falsely accused of setting rats upon it and then attacked because she had tried to put some distance and formality between them.

'Let go of me, Severus,' she said, trying to control the rising anger that now matched his.

Severus did not move, but searched her face intently. What he was searching for she did not know, but though his face was in half-shadow, she could see that he was slowly sinking into that closed expression she knew so well, even though he kept his eyes on hers. His penetrating stare was unnerving, yet she knew she would have to be polite but firm.

'Let go of me,' she repeated in a cold, deadpan voice, 'or I will have to take 50 points from Slytherin.'

The closed expression was gone in the blink of an eye, to be replaced by one of such furious pain that her expression wavered for a moment. He removed his hands from her shoulders but did not move otherwise.

'Why don't you hex me, then?' he said, in a strangulated voice, 'I'd rather you hexed me than this goddamned false politeness! What're playing at, Lily?'

She looked up at him defiantly. _A budding Death Eater._

'I'm not playing,' she said still in the tone of enforced politeness that now sounded hollow even to her ears, 'And neither are you, Severus. I think we both know that now.'

And with that she slipped past him towards the narrow staircase at the end of the corridor, as a tightening feeling in her throat threatening to choke her. She blinked rapidly as she climbed the stairs knowing his eyes were still on her.

How many times had she imagined this little scenario back home, during those hot, dreary summer months when she lay awake night after night, and she'd imagine Severus would come looking for her, contrite, saying he had been wrong about Voldemort? Well, he had come looking for her, but this certainly wasn't what she had imagined. He had come because of the loss of that stupid book on Dark Arts and god knows what other dark objects he was referring to as 'precious stuff'. She felt a twinge of guilt, for she knew she had hurt him with her attitude, but what else could she do? The turning point had come and gone, and it would do neither of them any good by looking back at where their path diverged.

More important still, she knew now more than ever, that she had to keep her distance, because, in spite of her willpower and determination, both her body and her mind betrayed her whenever Severus was near. This encounter had just proved it, and she needed to take drastic action, for staying away from her old friend was simply not enough.

IIIIII

Peter Pettigrew's chubby face was pale and shiny with sweat, his watery eyes wide with fear, the dilated pupils straining to one side as he tried to focus on the black ebony wand pressed to his left temple.

Severus Snape smirked and pressed the wand even harder into the shorter boy's head. He had lain in wait for Pettigrew for a whole hour down this narrow secret passageway behind the mirror on the fourth-floor corridor, knowing that he regularly disappeared into Hogsmeade on Saturday nights, to stock up on his weekly supply of sweets from Honeydukes.

Hundreds of Every-flavoured Beans, Fizzing Whizzbees, Butterbeer bottles and broken Sugar Quills lay at their feet for Pettigrew had dropped everything in fright when he ambushed him. Pettigrew was shaking in his shoes, his expression of abject fear highlighted by the pale light of the glowing magical symbols on the ceiling above.

Given what he had threatened him with, Severus knew he had every reason to be scared. His smirk deepened - tormenting Pettigrew had its satisfactions, for this lying piece of vermin was usually the one with the eagerest expression when the tables were turned and Potter and Black had him, Severus, at their mercy.

'I – I swear I don't know what you're talking about, Snape,' Pettigrew was saying, 'I haven't followed you to the dungeons, and I don't have a pet rat anymore. I don't know anything-'

'Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?' Severus replied grimly, 'As I said, I have been practising the art of Legilimency – mind-reading, to you – I'm sure even you've heard of its existence. Well, I'm getting quite good at it.'

Pettigrew said nothing but clamped his mouth shut, breathing heavily through his nose and becoming paler by the second. Severus lowered his voice to a grim whisper:

'There is, however, one snag: I'm getting quite good at it, but I'm not really quite there yet, know what I mean? And the Legilimency spell, if clumsily performed, can leave the victims' brain permanently addled, you see.'

Severus saw Pettigrew blanch as the effect of his words took hold. It was not true of course, but the important thing was that Pettigrew believed it.

'That's – !You can't - you won't do that!' Pettigrew whimpered.

Severus just looked at him, letting him see that, yes, he could, and he would.

'So I suggest you start speaking, before I force you to,' Severus snapped suddenly, 'Judging by the look on your face you've got mounds of dirty little secrets in that chubby head of yours!' His words were underlined by the burning tip of the ebony wand and Pettigrew closed his eyes, wincing.

'I - I - look, I'll tell you, ok? I'll tell you everything. I – I just need to go to the bathroom, please –'

He was clutching himself desperately, but Severus was unmoved.

'I don't care if you piss yourself, Pettigrew!' he snarled, 'That's nothing more than I expect from a cowardly little rat like you!'

Then several things happened at the same time.

Something heavy and invisible banged into him, so that he staggered backwards, Sirius Black appeared further down the tunnel, and Pettigrew, Severus' wand no longer pressed to his temple, made a run for it but stumbled on one of his own beer-bottles, falling heavily to the ground.

'What were you doing to Peter, you filthy snake?' Potter tore off the invisibility cloak, his wand held high and glaring at Severus.

'I guess old Snivillus here thought he'd ambush Wormy without us knowing, Prongs!' Black said scowling, as he came up to them.

Severus glanced warily at them, his wand in the duelling position.

'He was trying to read my mind!' Peter shouted scrambling to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at him. His hand was still shaking. 'He said it was Ligilli – legimilency or something, and he threatened he'd make me go insane, if I didn't tell him about the dungeon!'

Severus saw Potter's eyes flicker warningly towards Pettigrew, but Black, drawing himself up to his full height, spoke with an arrogant grin:

'If you want to know, Snivillus, _I _was the one who broke into that dungeon room of yours! Given that you're always prowling around trying to get _us _into trouble, James and Remus thought we'd give you a taste of your own medicine – after all, the rumours about where you go in the dungeons are coming thick and fast …'

'So we followed you down there,' Potter interjected, a look of deep dislike on his face.

'You couldn't have –' Severus bit out, 'I don't let anyone follow me'

'Ah, but we're not 'anyone'! We're the Maruaders!' Potter answered with a malicious grin 'We have special talents you see, and let's say - a keen sense of smell: we sniffed out your foul odour even though you thought you could disappear under a Disillusionment Charm'

'What?' What the hell was Potter talking about?

But Sirius Black gave a loud bark of laughter. 'Right you are Prongs! We certainly sniffed out this little snake's liar! Pity we couldn't use the front door: there was one hell of a Sealing Charm on that! Its force threw us right across the passageway!'

'Pity it wasn't strong enough to fry the lot of you, then!' Severus growled, 'How did you know about the window?'

'Oh, we guessed,' Black replied nonchalantly.

'You're lying!'

Sirius Black shrugged, but Potter, clutching his wand in a tight-fisted grasp scowled at him angrily: 'Well, quite a Viper's nest of dark, secret stuff we discovered there, Sniv!'

Severus pushed himself to stand in front of Potter, until he was only inches away from that hated, arrogant face: 'You know you targeted more than a book on Dark Magic, Potter!' he said savagely in a low voice.

Potter's scowl deepened, and a red, angry flush appeared on his cheeks.

'You have no right to those, you filthy snake! ' he said angrily, 'She hates you!'

'And how do you know who those letters were from? You shoved in a _rat_ to do your dirty work and rats can't read, even if you'd Imperious'd it! How did the rat even tell you about the secret compartment? They can't talk!'

He saw a flicker of confusion behind the spectacles, mixed with something that looked like alarm, but Black interjected quickly:

'I already told you, _I _was the one to shove the rat in: it's …uh…a very clever one: it can smell out secrecy and concealed stuff, like Mrs Norris smells out mischief and dirt!'

'How did you climb up? There was no boat!'

'I swam.'

'In the freezing water? You're lying, Black!'

'Ok, I didn't exactly swim, but then as Prongs here said, we're the Marauders: we've got lots of hidden talents!'

'Someone is pretty cut up about his hidey-hole being discovered,' Pettigrew cut in viciously. He had calmed down considerably since the other two had made their spectacular appearance, and was now scowling petulantly at Severus.

'Especially about those letters, it seems...' Sirius Black was looking at him shrewdly.

'You damaged nothing that cannot be replaced,' Severus retorted significantly, with a calmness he did not feel.

'So you really meant it when you called Evans a – a- Mudblood, you two-faced bastard!' Potter shouted, interpreting his words exactly the way he wanted to. Well, perhaps better that way.

He shrugged indifferently and watched the predictable mixture of triumph and contempt cross Potter's face. He knew Potter had once suspected that what he felt for Lily Evans was more than just friendship. But now more than ever, and for many reasons, he needed to completely hide that, especially from such a group of untrustworthy morons as these.

'Yeah, well, given the sort of other stuff secreted down there,' Potter said grimly, rallying, 'I wouldn't want old Snivilly to think we won't come visiting again! And next time we'll think of something to cut through those iron bars –'

'If any of you – or your rats - attempt to break in again, you do that at your peril.'

He spoke quietly, but could barely hide the malicious gleam in his eyes.

'Empty threats, Snape! We're more than a match for you!' Pettigrew retorted, evidently trying to recapture some of his lost dignity, but taking a step backwards just the same.

'If you dare show your face again down there,' Severus continued, in the same cold, deadly voice 'I will use that opportunity to try out some dark magic on you: curses so brutally horrific that even _I_ have been reluctant to try them out…' he fixed Pettigrew with his eyes, letting him see the eagerness there '…I will use a Disembowelment Curse on any rat or other animal that enters the door, and if you, Pettigrew, knew what I have in mind for _you_, you'd more than wet yourself!'

To his delight, Peter Pettigrew looked as though he was feeling sick, but then Severus caught a slight movement from the corner of his eyes and raised his wand just in time to block a hex from a furious Sirius Black. Seeing the look on Potter's face and knowing that he was outnumbered as usual and moreover, in the middle of a secret passageway no-one else knew about, Severus hastily cast a Shield Charm about him.

When he saw this Pettigrew rallied a bit. 'You don't scare me with your mind-reading! Bet you can't do that! Bet you were just boasting! No-one can do that!'

Severus just smirked through his Shield Charm.

'No – I've heard of Legilimency, Wormy,' Potter said slowly, glaring all the while at Severus. 'It exists all right, but like everything else this slimy snake does, it's illegal! Or as good as. But that's not going to stop me from revealing what a viscid, poisonous serpent you are, Snivillus! It's about time someone knew about your secret dungeon. I bet Slughorn would be unpleasantly surprised to see what one of his star pupils might be hiding down there...'

'Yeah,' Sirius Black grinned and nodded, his wand still pointing in his direction 'Might regret having asked you to the Slug Club!'

'Ah, so is this just an elaborate plan to kick me out of the Slug Club?' Severus sneered 'Doesn't it reek of jealousy, though!'

'No, it is a plan to force you to show your true colours, you double-faced, slimy -!'

'If you think exposing the whereabouts of the dungeon will make Lily Evans think you're some sort of hero,' Severus cut across Potter's words savagely, 'then I'm afraid you've got another think coming!'

'Does she know about it?' The words were out of his mouth before Potter could stop himself, and a dull flush suffused his cheeks.

Severus smirked and edged as close to Potter as the Shield Charm allowed him to: 'I'm not going to tell you if she knows about it. Or whether she has been down there with me, or how we used to spend our time down there...alone...' his smirk deepened as he saw the furious flush deepen on Potter's cheeks. 'I suggest if you want that sort of information, you ask her yourself. Oh ... but I forgot... she's not speaking to you either, is she?'

Potter forgot himself then and lunged himself at Severus, forgetting the Shield Charm. He bounced off, of course and had to be restrained by Sirius Black because he had raised his wand to fire a hex at Severus, which, in the close confines of the secret passage, would only ricochet dangerously everywhere.

'You'll regret this, Snape!' Potter said, panting heavily, 'I'm going to make sure that your Dark magic laboratory is completely destroyed and hopefully they'll find enough evidence of your sick, contorted magic to have you expelled!'

'If you do that Potter, I'll make sure I'm expelled together with your Werewolf friend!' he retorted swiftly. 'I don't give a damn about Dumbledore's pledge to secrecy! I would have nothing more to lose then, would I? So I'll give their dirty secret away, killing two birds with one stone: Dumbledore'll be discredited and Lupin'll be out of Hogwarts on his arse!'

The effect of his words was immediate. They all froze, glaring at him angrily, as they realised the truth of his words. He proceeded to make his meaning perfectly clear.

'Perhaps Dumbledore will be relieved of his position as Headmaster: the Dark Lord will be pleased with that, and I'm sure Remus Lupin will be far happier finding friends among his own kind, oh ... and yes... I think I can give enough evidence of what you have been up to with that Invisibility Cloak, Potter, to have that damned thing confiscated for the duration of your time here at Hogwarts...'

The expression on Potter's face was livid, but he did not lunge forward again.

'C'mon, Prongs,' Black whispered finally.

Pettigrew had already backed away and, to his relief, Potter eventually gave in to Black's insistence and followed him in silence up the tunnel after throwing Severus one last belligerent look. Severus watched their progress up the tunnel: the magical symbols and signs decorating the tunnel walls, Rowena Ravenclaw's legacy, glowed automatically when the three boys' wandlight fell upon them, marking their passage.

When the tunnel was dark and silent once more, Severus cautiously followed them back to where the secret passage emerged behind the mirror in the fourth-floor corridor. He had seen the look in Potter's eyes: he would not risk Lupin's secret being discovered, hence, his own secret: the dungeon hideout would also be safe for now.

But he had to make it safer.

The Marauders might not tell the teachers, but nothing was preventing them from breaking in again the same way and destroying the rest of his stuff. He had to prevent access through that barred window and he knew just the thing for it. Reg's father, old Orion Black, had lent him a book called 'The Art of Stealth, Disguise and Misdirection' and among many obscure but useful spells and enchantments, there were some that allowed you to hide or disguise whole buildings – the old Warlock had hidden Grimauld Place itself with some of those spells. Severus was sure he could find or adapt one of them to suit his needs: that small dungeon window would never ever be visible again from anywhere outside the castle.

As for the door to the dungeon itself: well, that was already protected by his and Lily's Sealing Spell.

Lily.

He cringed inside as he remembered that morning's encounter. He had accused Lily of giving away the location of the dungeon to the Marauders, only to find out that those idiots had somehow managed to follow him to the dungeon door instead. He still did not know how they had managed to. There was something missing - something that he could not quite put his finger on, but was fairly sure it had something to do with the so-called 'hidden-talents' they had been bragging about.

But one thing he did know for sure now, was that Lily had had nothing to do with it.

He sighed heavily as he made his way silently back through the deserted corridors towards the Slytherin common-room. He felt foolish and guilty at having accused her that way, but what in Merlin's name was he supposed to think? However, he also felt secretly relieved that it hadn't been Lily to give away his secret, and he supposed he should also be glad that his words had, at least momentarily, shaken her out of her stolid indifference, for he had seen a flash of her old self again as she indignantly denied his accusations. Only she had immediately tried to distance herself from him again, and he had lost his temper with her.

He wished he hadn't: her parting words had something oddly chilling, almost desperate, in them that unnerved him. He knew he would watch her closer than ever, but he also knew it would be a long time before he plucked up enough courage to speak to her again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Coming-of-age.**

Gloriana Bletchley had a disconcerting habit of leaning very close when speaking to you. Severus was only finding out about this just now, for she had cornered him in one of the dimly-lit alcoves of Slytherin common-room.

He barely knew her actually, for she was a seventh-year student, yet now her face was inches away from his, and she was talking to him in a low voice, telling him about her woes in Slughorn's Potion class – nothing Severus was remotely interested in hearing, but Gloriana's intimate, confidential tone always made it seem as though she was sharing the deepest secrets with whomever she managed to get close to.

'...and so you see,' she whispered huskily, 'I got the antidotes all mixed up. Slughorn had a job sorting the mess and he told me I didn't have the making of a good potioneer. He even said he even doubted I'll pass my NEWTs...' She pouted becomingly, using her full, red lips to their best advantage.

She was not very tall, or imposing, but she had the kind of buxom and softly-curved figure that drew many boys' attention. Her hair was light chestnut and framed her face in large, soft curls that fell about her shoulders luxuriantly. She had a peachy skin, eye shadow that shimmered with what Severus knew must be powdered scales of the Antipodean Opaleye, and large pale-blue eyes that were now fixed unwaveringly on his.

Severus found that he had subconsciously moved backwards, for he felt the cold marble of the alcove's supporting column digging into his back.

This was getting ridiculous.

'What d'you want, Gloriana?' he snapped.

Obviously the seventh-year witch wanted her homework done or improved. That was nothing new: he'd been helping out Slytherins – even older ones – with their Potion work since his second-year ... for a price.

But Gloriana didn't back away at his less-than-welcoming tone. To his surprise, she smiled, batting her eyelashes.

'Who said I wanted anything?' she said, in a voice that indicated exactly the opposite.

Severus folded his arms and was about to retort with a scathing remark, but at that moment, she leaned even closer so that her well-endowed bosom was brushing against his arms. He suddenly forgot what he had to say.

'Well, now you mention it, there may be something...' she whispered intimately in his ears, the warm weight of her leaning hard against him.

Severus wished she'd stop that, for there was something confoundedly disturbing in her closeness. Especially her perfume: it was a strong scent of magnolia, but beneath that he could detect a strong musky odour that was setting his skin tingling and his heart rate beating faster.

The icy core of reasoning that never really left him was arguing vehemently that witches often used alluring and magical perfumes to befuddle the senses of whoever got close to them, making them more willing, more pliable ...but the icy voice of reason was fading fast.

'And what is that?' he muttered, feeling it would look ridiculous if he tried to back off, (he had his back to the wall, anyway) and not quite willing to, somehow, either.

He reminded himself that Gloriana Bletchley, though a Pureblood, didn't have a Galleon to her name. Her father had squandered the family gold in ludicrous business ventures. From what little he knew of Gloriana, she was after rich Pureblood aristocracy. The boys she dated were in increasing order of power and gold, so she wouldn't be flirting with him, a half-blood and wretchedly un-wealthy, unless he had something she wanted. Sure enough:

'I heard Nyneve, your Prefect, say that you are up to brewing a Love Potion – the most powerful one: Amortentia,' she murmured.

'Then you heard wrong. Nyneve – and many others – have asked me to brew it, but I haven't.'

'Why not? Slughorn says you're brilliant!'

She leaned back slightly to look at him, baby-blue eyes wide and questioning, but one hand was still resting on his crossed arms and he could still feel her warmth against him. He felt a dull flush rising above the collar of his robes.

'The ingredients are too expensive,' he managed.

'Oh, I'll make it worth your while,' she answered, her face breaking into the largest smile yet.

Severus raised a quizzical eyebrow and looked down at her upturned face cynically. Where would she get the galleons from? From what they said, she was hardly better off than he was.

But he felt the small hand press his arm warmly, the musky-magnolia perfume enveloping him as she leaned heavily against him again to whisper in his ears:

'I'll make it worth your while by giving you something better than Galleons,' she purred in his ears, and the previous dull flush he had felt turned into a fiery red blush that suffused his whole face, as he felt her leg rub suddenly against his thigh and her meaning became clearer. His breath hitched and he unfolded his arms, reaching back to the cold column behind him for support.

'Tomorrow everyone'll be off for the Christmas Holidays,' she was breathing softly in his ear, 'the dorms will be empty. You'll see. You won't regret it. I know how to _handle_ boys, if you catch my drift'

His heart was now pumping madly, the blood rushing to his head and elsewhere in a hot flood. He pushed her from him roughly, though he knew she wouldn't be fooled. She looked at him expectantly and a little petulantly, while he tried to control his breathing. Probably she was not used to being pushed away, but now that he'd put some distance between her and her sickly-sweet perfume, he could think a bit clearer.

Ambitious little Purebloods like her usually guarded their virginity far more fiercely than the Queen her crown jewels: with the current emphasis on purity of bloodline, it was their ticket to a respectable, highly-sought-after marriage to 'nature's nobility' and the more traditionalist pureblood families. However, he'd heard enough prurient stories circulated by lecherous wannabes like Marcus Wilkes and Phil Avery to understand more or less what her words meant. It made him get even hotter under the collar and he realised he must be looking like a complete sexually-naive twerp in Gloriana Bletchley's eyes.

Well, he hadn't had much time to focus on such matters: he had been struggling with more than just the low self-esteem brought on by his squalid back-ground, for his life had turned upside down by events relating to the War: events that had come between him and the only witch he had ever loved: Lily Evans. He had never thought of any other girl in that way except her, Lily. And even then, his mind had shied away from contemplating the kind of sleazy sex-play Gloriana was referring to. Lily was too good, too pure and naively innocent, to think about in _that _way.

But Gloriana Bletchley was forcing him to think about it in a very unequivocal kind of way - right here and now. He scowled. She had no right to. Damn her and her stupid perfume. She was just a base, shallow witch who probably thought she'd use him (and the Amortentia she was trying to get him to brew) to trick some rich pureblood into betrothal. Well, she was a Slytherin after all.

She was still looking at him intently, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she witnessed his struggle to regain his composure, but the intense flush had faded into one of shame, and he looked at her coldly.

'As I said, Bletchley, I don't have the ingredients for Amortentia, and they are more expensive than _you_ can afford' he said unpleasantly.

'You'd be amazed at what I can afford, Severus Snape' she retorted, her smile fading a bit but still undeterred, ' I might find ways and means of procuring them, you see'

'You do that,' he said, indifferently, gathering his bag off the floor and turning to leave.

'If I do, will you promise to think about it?'

He paused. Some of the ingredients really were rare and could be used for more than Love Potions. Besides, the reason why he hadn't wanted to brew Love Potion was not there anymore, for Lily had not even looked at him once since last November. A heavy depression settled once more over him. It was never far away these days.

'I'll think about it.'

'Good.' Gloriana's face lighted up again and she slipped in front of him just as he was going out of the alcove, blocking his way, 'And you'll give me a discount on your brewing fee then? You won't regret it,' she repeated, with a barely perceptible wink.

He looked into her eager, upturned face disdainfully. So base and shallow. His benumbed mind easily overcame what his senses could not, and the heavy perfume failed to move him again.

Without another word he pushed past Gloriana Bletchley and headed towards the beckoning darkness of the dungeons outside Slytherin common-room.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

Severus looked at the gently-falling snow as it piled silently on the small barred window of his dungeon hideout. The small patch of sky he could see beyond had that peculiar solid white-grey of a snowy day and the subdued, diffused light from the window was the only light penetrating the darkened dungeon.

He was sitting in a rickety old Windsor, staring moodily at the window. After the disaster the Marauders and their rat had caused he had cleverly enchanted the window with a spell from a book old Orion Black had lent him. The small window was Unplottable now and he did not even need to blanket out any chinks of light with old cushions - no-one could see the window now, even if their nose was pressed up against it.

He had gone to check for himself, slipping and sliding awkwardly across the frozen lake to the sheer walls of the cliff-face beneath Hogwarts' castle, but the enchantment had worked and he could see no sign of the hidden window. He wondered once again, how in Merlin's name had Potter and Black had managed to get across without a boat? There was something he was missing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He knew they had an invisibility cloak, but that didn't answer all his questions.

However, though he had further strengthened the dungeon room's defences by several Vermin-exterminating Curses, there had been no further intrusions in his dungeon, whether of rats, other animals or the Marauders.

And there wouldn't be for quite some time now, for it was the Christmas holidays and the castle was almost completely devoid of students, including Potter and his gang. Whether it was his threat to reveal Lupin's secret or not, Severus couldn't tell, but he never saw any further signs that the four Gryffindors had gone anywhere near his dungeon.

Not that it stopped them from trying to hex him whenever they got the chance, of course. And he hexed them back whenever he could get away with it – which wasn't as often as he would have liked, given that he was usually outnumbered.

However, for these brief few weeks of holidays, he was at least rid of them.

But that wasn't the reason Severus was sitting in darkness gazing silently up at the snowflakes settling on the tiny ledge, his thin face as pallid as the snow itself. Even the cauldron fire was out, for today, for Severus, even potion-brewing had lost its' appeal.

It wasn't because it was Christmas day, and Severus had just spent a few wretched hours during the Christmas Feast, trying to avoid both Dumbledore's piercing blue gaze, and Gloriana Bletchley's suggestive one, - he had spent all his recent Christmases, bar one, at Hogwarts, and he was used to it. In fact, this year in particular, due to the increasing violence of the war, very few students had remained at Hogwarts, and so the meal was a relatively subdued affair.

No, it wasn't because of Christmas present, that Severus was sitting alone with a leaden heart, rather, it was the ghost of a Christmas past that had come to haunt him.

It was exactly a year ago, on a snowy Christmas afternoon that he had held Lily Evans in his arms and kissed her. It had been a wildly exciting, heart-stopping moment: the memory of it still set his pulse racing even now. They had shared the magic in more ways than one then, because for the briefest of moments, the rare gift they had, the mysterious synchronicity of souls had thrown them into a one consciousness, one mind, and they had shared their emotions as no two individuals truly can.

He had held so much hope for them then.

Even though he had been forced to undo what had just transpired, because he knew that that self-same mysterious gift they had, was a double-edged sword, he had always held a hope that he and Lily could one day continue where they had left off once the war was over, or even, perhaps before that time, if only Lily could be convinced...

But his hopes had been shattered last June.

More than shattered...Potter had seen to that! His hopes had been ground into the dust, spat upon and held up to be ridiculed by the whole school. His fist tightened into a white-knuckled ball as the vision of Potter's jeering be-spectacled face swam before his eyes, and he realised he was savagely crushing something soft and feathery in his hand. He remembered what he had been holding and hastily forced himself to relax his grip.

It lay like a blood-red ribbon across the white palm of his hand: Lily's lock of hair. It was all that remained of her. He cupped the fragile strand in both hands and brought it to his face, closing his eyes. There it was again: a wild-flower smell, an autumn-berry warmth that was real, not imagined: her smell! He screwed his eyes shut tight as a myriad thoughts and memories flooded his mind, and he felt a constriction in his throat, like he couldn't breathe with the sheer enormity of what he missed..

_Goddamn _it! Why, why, _why_ did she still effect him so much!

He stood up suddenly, sending the old Windsor scraping across the flagstones. He drew in a shaky breath and carefully stored the lock of hair in the breast pocket of the shirt he wore beneath his robes - he could think of nowhere safer at the moment – and started pacing the floor agitatedly. He had promised himself he'd stand on his own two feet now: the war was reaching epic proportions, the wizarding world was in turmoil, even Muggles were feeling the tension and wondering at sudden disappearances and strange deaths. He himself, in two short weeks' time would become officially of age and able to take full part in the war: a momentous step he had been waiting for all his life: he shouldn't be sitting alone in the dark, agonizing over a strand of hair like the anti-hero of some obscure Victorian novel! Well, sitting alone in the dark was something that he normally did anyway, but he must stop thinking about _her_. He had to get a _grip! _

He moved over to one of the large cauldrons, took out his wand and poked it beneath the large pewter pot, lighting a fire with more sparks than was necessary. He next waved his wand at the torches in the brackets, lighting them and then ran his hand tentatively over some of the books piled up on his desk: he'd find something to brew that would take his mind where _he_ wanted it to go, rather than where his subconscious wishes desired it to go. He pulled a dark leather-bound volume from the pile and flicked idly through the pages.

Perhaps a Re'em's blood Potion. That, together with the use of the Flagrante Curse would certainly get an enemy's attention. He had to focus on offensive as well as defensive magic now that he would soon be of age. He had no intention of stewing out his days at Spinner's End, but sticking to the magical community carried its own risks, and he meant to be prepared.

It would also make him better prepared to ward off whatever Potter and his gang had to throw at him, as well as raise his status among his fellow Slytherins. A lot of rumours flew about him even in the Slytherin common-room: rumours originally spread by Seth Mulciber. The tall, swarthy seventh-year, acutely jealous of the Dark Lord's interest in a greasy-haired half-blood without a Galleon to his name, had tried to sink Severus' growing reputation among Slytherins by hinting he was defying the Dark Lord's orders. Of course, Mulciber knew nothing about the Dark Lord's orders, and Severus wanted to keep it that way for they involved Lily.

To Mulciber's disgust, however, the rumours he himself had spread only served to enhance the dark glamour surrounding Severus: to defy Lord Voldemort and still remain on speaking terms with the great wizard (or so they _said_) was something undeniably fascinating! It implied there was something great about the unlikely teenager that the Dark Lord valued. Given Severus Snape's secretive ways and profound knowledge of ancient magic, most students found this theory quite plausible. And Slytherins admired greatness, in whatever shape or form it came.

So it was that Severus had noted a definite shift in his housemate's attitude towards him: he was still looked down upon by the Pureblood snobs of course: Merlin, he had _tainted blood_: NOTHING could change that! But their disdainful looks were tempered by curiosity now, and for the most part, a healthy respect for his knowledge and its potential!

Severus ignored them all - if anything he felt slightly uneasy at their interest, for he did not want anyone to know about the Dark lord's orders concerning Lily, for since the break-up of their friendship, he was only too aware that he was no longer in a position to carry out his wishes. He had been told to investigate the source of the rare but extremely powerful combined magic that he and Lily shared, and if possible, persuade Lily to use their special gift in the interest of the Dark Lord's cause.

That wasn't going to happen anytime soon, but it was now almost the end of December and surely Mulciber, who suspected Lily was part of the Dark Lord's plan, would have made sure that the Dark Lord got to know of his very public falling-out with Lily last June.

The Dark Lord's ominous silence was worrying him. He frowned down at the manuscript page in front of him, his eyes not seeing the words. His sense of foreboding had increased as the months wore on and yet there was no word from the Dark Lord. Of course, he knew enough through the network of students with Death Eater relatives, that Voldemort had a lot n his plate right now, given the Ministry's vicious retaliatory measures, so the progress of a couple of under-age students could not be high on his list of priorities. Still... Severus was sure Voldemort had not forgotten – the spectacular nature of the special magic he and Lily were capable of was not something the Dark Lord – or the Ministry, or _anyone _for that matter – would want to pass up, for the likes of it hadn't been seen in centuries, if not millennia - and in due course, Severus was sure he would be standing once more before Lord Voldemort. And he had already determined what he would do and say, when that day came...

He would insist on joining up on his own merits alone.

He would blame himself for the failure of persuading Lily - after all, Voldemort himself admitted that Lily, as a Muggleborn, would see nothing in joining the Death Eaters for her as things stood _now_. And he would show Voldemort and the whole damn _world_ that he was a worthy wizard, without needing combined magic, and hopefully his loyalty would make up for Lily's complete lack of it. She would be overlooked and ignored until the end of the war. Then, as a triumphant Death Eater, he would graciously extend the hand of friendship and forgiveness...

He shook his head, marched over to the store cupboard, and started to take out ingredient bottles, banging them savagely down on the table, furious with himself for going down that route again. He stood alone now, and there was a whole world to things to do and explore out there_, by himself!_

A sudden hissing noise came from the direction of the door, causing him to freeze momentarily and glance at the heavy door with its elaborate iron hinges. The body of a tiny shrew-like mouse rolled over twice, dead. The creature had probably ran through the gap beneath the door triggered the Vermin -Exterminating Curse he had placed there. He would not risk any rat or similar following through that door again.

Of course he could simply have made the door unplottable, or disguised it by some other magical means, which would also make sure no human being – even under an Invisibility cloak - would follow him down there.

_But you didn't,_ whispered a little voice in his head. _Because that would mean that if, perhaps, just perhaps – she changed her mind and came looking or you, she would not be able to find the door, either!_

Scowling fiercely, Severus ignored the voice in his head and starting savagely grinding dried newts' eyes in a chipped marble mortar, finding a grim pleasure in the physical work and an even grimmer one by crushing the shrivelled eyes that were gazing accusingly up at him from beneath the pestle.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

It was his Birthday: he was 17 years old, officially of age now, and yet she hadn't even looked at him once.

He fidgeted moodily with his untouched goblet of Pumpkin juice, ignoring Avery's attempt at conversation as he continued to stare over at the Gryffindor table across the Great Hall.

Lily Evans was sitting in the midst of a small knot of students chatting animatedly over her breakfast. It was only a few days since the return of the students from the Christmas holidays, yet she was somehow always surrounded by lots of gibbering fools who did not seem to leave her alone for one second!

And to make matters worse, most of the gibbering fools were _boys!_ They gathered around her like giddy, mindless moths around a flame, grinning moronically, play-punching each other to gain her attention, even though a disapproving one.

Not that she was looking too disapproving now. Especially at Robert Stretton, a seventh- year Ravenclaw who'd been sniffing around her since Christmas of their fifth-year. Severus had a morbidly sharp memory for whoever came anywhere close to Lily _that _way. Potter was there too, scowling belligerently at Stretton. And for once, Severus could even sympathise with the reason why Potter was scowling, for unless his eyes were deceiving him, Lily was actually _flirting_ with the tall Ravenclaw.

He sat up straighter, narrowing his eyes. Lily was laughing at something Stretton said, but it was nothing like her usual heart-felt laughter, instead it was more like a shy, nervous giggle, and she kept her eyes firmly on the boy's face when he was talking. Severus felt his blood run cold, and he realised he was clutching the table edge in a white-knuckled grip, because for a moment his world seemed to tilt and reel.

'She's going out with him, you know' someone whispered in his ear.

The world disappeared from beneath his feet. He looked round jerkily, still clutching the table, and saw that Rosier had taken Avery's place by his side. The look on his face must have been alarming for Rosier raised his eyebrows, and regarded him with a mildly surprised expression.

'Why? Didn't you know?'

'How should I know? And why do you think I should care, Evan?' he managed to speak clearly and coldly without a trace of the seething turmoil he was feeling inside.

'Well, you were friends with that Mudblood, weren't you?'

'She's from my town, that's all. And don't pretend you don't know what happened last June, Evan! You don't disguise either your disgust or your delight very well, do you?'

'Whereas you manage to disguise a great many things, Severus,' Rosier retorted, his dark blue eyes fixing him with a direct stare.

Severus shrugged, unwilling to pursue the direction the conversation was taking, yet at the same time finding it immensely difficult to stop his eyes from swivelling towards the Gryffindor table again, in a self-torturing compulsion.

He shouldn't have, for at that moment Robert Stretton leaned over Lily and draped his arm possessively over her shoulders whispering something in her ear before taking his arm off.

'Anyway, that Lily Evans is dating that Stretton. Cassiopeia told me,' Rosier was continuing, 'you know what a gossip Cassy is. Asked her out a few days ago just after the holidays. She said Stretton should be ashamed of himself, dating a Mudblood, when he could've had – where're you off to?'

But Severus was already at the door of the Great Hall. He crossed over to the dungeons and several minutes or hours later, he found himself in front of the wall that disguised the entrance to Slytherin Common-room, not knowing exactly how he got there, for his mind had been a red blur of hot anger and yes, shame, too.

His fists were clenched against the damp rough wall, and in a disconnected kind of way he saw that his knuckles were bloodied and red-raw, as though he had punched the wall in anger. The physical pain had not caught up with him yet, or perhaps, it was so overshadowed by the white-hot pain inside him, that it had been numbed into nothing.

The sleeve of his robe had ridden up as he leaned against the wall and the watch on his wrist told him a quarter of an unaccounted-for hour had gone by since he left the Great Hall. His eyes remained on the watch, as though mesmerised by the tiny movements of the complex symbols on its face. Lily had given him that watch as a Birthday gift exactly a year ago, as a coming-of-age gift, even though it had been his sixteenth Birthday then. But Lily had never cared much about wizarding traditions, she had her own unique way of thinking about such things, and she had said he, Severus, was of age in her eyes!

But today, his _real_ coming-of-age Birthday, she not only totally ignored him but had the nerve to allow that Ravenclaw idiot to touch her, to put his arm around her, to… his mind convulsed in disgust as his imagination promptly provided various detailed images of what Stretton would do to her. His fists dug so deeply into the wall that finally the pain of his scraped flesh penetrated even the haze of furious disgust clouding his mind.

He forced himself to unclench his fists, finger by finger, from the wall, and shook his sleeve over the wrist watch. He had never taken off Lily's gift, even after last June. She had placed a Protean charm on that and her own watch, so they could send messages to each other. He had never taken it off in the secret hope that maybe one day, he would feel it grow warm and there would be a message from her.

Even up to this morning he was hoping for a birthday greeting, a mere nod of recognition that it was his coming-of-age day. He had always been the one to forget his own Birthdays and Lily had always been the one to remind him of them with an irrepressibly delighted smile at his dour attitude towards birthdays, and most often, a Muggle-flavoured gift.

So he had somehow expected her to remember. How _pathetic_!

A disgusted laugh escaped his lips, sounding slightly mad even to his own ears. How could he have been such a blithering fool? The cold voice of reason, that finally could get in a word edgewise, now his fury had subsided somewhat, told him that he _knew_ Lily had meant it when she terminated their friendship, and unpredictable as her action was, he knew that Lily would pursue an ideal to its ultimate end, if she knew that was the best course of action.

_And if she had determinedly cut you out of her life, that obviously means she would be_ _dating other boys_, went on the cold voice of reason. _You should have expected it. In spite of everything, you were never ever really, truly her boyfriend, were you?_

Severus swore silently under his breath as a babble of voices came down the corridor and alerted him to the approach of students coming down from breakfast. Yes, he had never been Lily Evans boyfriend, but he had hoped – no, _he knew_ – that he had been something more; something beyond a mere flirtatious romance.

A group of second-year Slytherins came round the corner towards their common-room Entrance, their loud voices grating harshly on his senses. Students would be gathering their things to go to their first lessons of the morning. His mind flew ahead, thinking fast. He had memorised Lily's timetable of course: it was Friday, and the Gryffindors had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs now. The Ravenclaws, like the Slytherins, had a free period right now, and he had a hunch that one particular Ravenclaw would not be using the free time to study…

He pushed his way past the younger students and made his way up the Dungeons to the Entrance Hall and down the corridor that led to the courtyard. Most students passed this way to go to Herbology, especially on cold winter days.

It was snowing heavily and the many students were going to Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures were careful to walk under the cloistered perimeter. Severus mingled among them, unobserved, and wondered why the hell he was so keen to torture himself that way. But he had to see for himself if Rosier's words were true. His resolve began wavering as he shivered in his robe – he'd forgotten to get his cloak , when all of a sudden he saw what he had been waiting for.

Lily, of course, unlike everyone else, was walking right across the middle of the snow-covered courtyard, her face upturned to the falling snow. Robert Stretton was following her like an obedient puppy, a stupid grin plastered across his flushed, pink-cheeked face.

'…. so beautiful, don't you think?' Lily was saying, looking up at the sky with a pensive but eager expression.

Severus got as close as he could while still in the shadow of the arched cloister-like walkway. The snow was settling like a fluffy white scarf on Lily's head, but she didn't seem to mind. Stretton, on the other hand, brushed the snow off his perfectly-parted, dark-blond hair, with an un-amused grimace.

'Damned cold and useless, if you ask me,' he said, not noticing the slight frown creasing Lily's brows as her eyes flickered in his direction.

'C'mon Lily, you shouldn't be hanging around in the snow more than you have to!' Stretton continued, 'you'll catch a cold' He took her arm and attempted to lead her towards the cloistered walkway.

She resisted for a moment, then moved forward. 'There's Pepper-up Potion for that, Robert. Sometimes, some things are just worth the risk.'

'Spoken like a true Gryffindor!' grinned Stretton, 'But really Lily, I think you should hurry up and get inside those warm Greenhouses. I think most of your class is there already.'

This was true, the courtyard was almost deserted. Severus had already slipped behind one of the pillars.

Robert Stretton was now dusting the snow off Lily's hair, and Severus felt his blood boil at the familiarity with which the Ravenclaw touched her: how dare he? But what happened next made his insides grow as cold as the snow outside. Stretton put one finger under Lily's chin and, tilting her face up, kissed her gently on the lips.

Severus stood rooted to the spot, his eyes unblinkingly fixed on Lily's face, devouring it with his stare. Lily had stood still and suffered the kiss in silence. There was a shy smile on her lips when they broke apart, but then she shifted back slightly and looked down awkwardly at her shoes. Stretton, however, was grinning like a baboon, and as Lily turned to go towards the distant Greenhouses, he was practically floating over the snow as he retraced his steps across the courtyard.

Unbeknownst to him the glowing tip of a black ebony wand was following the Ravenclaw boys' light-hearted footsteps across the courtyard, and Severus Snape contemplated what hex to hit him with.

What the bloody hell did Lily see in such a baby-faced milksop like Stretton? He wasn't even the brightest among Ravenclaws in his year! He, Severus, could outshine him with his eyes closed in any subject he cared to mention. And several others he couldn't mention. Robert Stretton had nothing to his name but a dubious claim to purity of blood, a mediocre school record (mediocre for a Ravenclaw, anyway) and a fresh-faced, healthy-looking, boy-next-door look that was the complete opposite of Severus Snape.

Perhaps that is what Lily liked about him, Severus thought miserably as he pointed his wand at Stretton's retreating back. The Ravenclaw did not lurk in shadows or prowl down dangerous dungeon passageways searching for even more dangerous spells and dark objects. Stretton, like Lily, belonged to the bright outdoor sunshine, to sane, healthy outdoor activities they would now no doubt be sharing. Robert Stretton was a _nice _boy, and exactly what should suit Lily Evans.

The silent spell left his wand with such vitriolic force it knocked Stretton flying across the entrance to the west wing of the castle, flat on his face. It was the mildest of hexes, for Severus couldn't trust himself with something more deadly at the moment. Besides, he'd want to be _facing_ the bastard if he had to go take matters to that point!

Stretton sat up looking mildly surprised to find himself on the floor, as Severus swept sneeringly past him down the corridor towards the Great Hall.

The Ravenclaw did not look particularly distressed, for the hex was not _painful_, but Severus found it immensely satisfying to see that Stretton's perfectly-parted shiny hair was hanging in a gelled clump in front of his smooth, pink-faced face, obscuring his vision, and several warty purple tentacles had grown like a bizarre moustache around his mouth. There! Just let him try to kiss Lily again with those foul excrescences under his nose!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Like a Moth to a Flame.**

It was Potter who got rid of Robert Stretton, finally. To Severus' chagrin, Potter had never given up pursuing Lily. In spite of Lily's rejection in June, in spite of her dating Stretton, James Potter persisted in trying to speak to her, to constantly draw her attention in the most obvious of ways: all this while stringing along several girlfriends of his own in quick succession.

Severus could only conclude it was Potter's incredible self-confidence and arrogance that allowed him to persist, for Lily was still pointedly ignoring him.

In fact, out of the whole disgusting situation, the only small reprieve for Severus was to see Potter's ego thus bruised as the fair-faced Ravenclaw boy dated the one girl who had refused the famous James Potter's advances.

He was even vaguely pleased to see that Potter and his gang had targeted Stretton and made him the butt of their senseless jokes. Somebody's ego was _really_ sore, and Potter was quite unsubtle about it.

Things came to a head when, barely two weeks after Lily started going out with Stretton, Potter and his gang provoked a fight with the Ravenclaw seventh-year and some of his friends. Stretton was left howling in pain as a combination of ill-cast hexes by Potter and Black (purposely targeting him), caused him to turn a rich shade of orange and sprout coarse, black bristles and hives all over his body.

It was quite a public fight: in the grounds close to the Quidditch pitch after a Ravenclaw- Gryffindor match: Potter's usual knack of publicly humiliating his enemies or rivals for Lily's affection. The dunderhead had no sense of acting discreetly.

Severus, drawn by the commotion, had quickly taken in the scene and he realised what happened. But he was pleased to see Robert Stretton looking like an orange boot-brush. It was even better than the purple tentacles he had given him!

It served him right, really: Stretton was a hopeless dueller. He had had enough chance to throw a Shield Charm and protect himself, but had completely failed to react. A minute later, he watched in a kind of bitter pleasure as Lily Evans marched up and shouted herself hoarse at Potter and his gang, and deducted a whole fifty points from her own house. Since she had become Prefect she had become far more assertive with the Marauders. Which was just as well, Severus noted grimly, for she was certainly getting no support from Lupin, her Gryffindor counterpart! He had slipped away on the pretext of taking the howling, hairy-hived Stretton to the hospital wing, leaving a furious Lily to face Potter and the rest of his gang.

Severus had lingered at the back of the crowd, ready to jump in and protect her if necessary, but Potter took Lily's tongue-lashing with his usual cocky grin firmly plastered on his face, until she deducted enough points from Gryffindor to defeat all the glory he had just won on the Quidditch pitch.

That wiped the smirk off his face and he had reluctantly backed off.

Whether Potter's prank had exposed the Ravenclaw's stupidity, his low pain tolerance, or something else entirely, Lily broke up with Robert Stretton as soon as he reappeared out of the hospital wing, much to Severus' secret satisfaction.

His elation was short-lived however, because she started going out with a Hufflepuff boy called Ralph Truman, and then a string of other boys. They were all very short dates lasting not more than a couple of weeks – he knew for he doggedly marked and followed every single one of them as far as he could without Lily noticing anything.

Or perhaps she did, but he couldn't help his eyes gravitating towards her every time she came into class, or the Great hall, or anywhere else he could observe her without being noticed. It was an insane and self-destructive attitude and he knew it, but he couldn't help it. Like a moth towards a flame, he was attracted to her, although singed time and again by each of her new dates, each of the new boyfriends that now occupied her time. He started noting her every move, her every word, every nuance of speech and fleeting expression, putting into use his early training at Madeira's hands, torturing himself with the idea that he might one day see the heart-stopping expression on her beautiful face that had once been directed at him - ages ago it seemed now - when they had kissed on a cold snowy Christmas afternoon. It was an expression that he had never again seen on her face, even when he had actually witnessed ( Merlin bleach his eyes out!) that bastard, Stretton, kiss her.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be something indescribably appealing to boys about Lily Evans. Of course, she was beautiful - he and every other boy at Hogwarts had long noticed that. She had lost the drawn and pale looks of the first few months. She was kind and funny and very popular, especially now that she was not hanging around exclusively with him anymore, but a whole bunch of different people.

But there was something else that every male creature above the age of thirteen found irresistible about Lily Evans: Severus couldn't quite put his finger upon it, for it was a combination of factors, and very unconsciously done: he concluded it was a certain shy expectancy about her; a searching, eager, green-eyed look that every boy she dated must have interpreted as being meant only for him.

But they were mistaken.

Perhaps she herself did not know what, or who, she was looking for in these boys, because the eagerness, the expectancy always died off after a few days. And when he saw her next time, Lily Evans would be dating yet another boy.

Eventually even Potter gave up his pathetic attempts to gain her attention by ridiculing her boyfriends. He even gave up on playing pranks on them altogether: her boyfriends never lasted long enough anyway. However, Severus could see that Potter was getting increasingly sour about her dating everybody but him.

This pleased and alarmed him in equal measure, for although he loved to see Potter suffer, his dogged persistence in running after Lily and his optimistic certainty that she would fall for him in the end was disquieting. It was disquieting because for Potter, things actually always _did_ turn out well in the end.

IIIIIIIIIIII

It was noisy and crowded in the Three Broomsticks. The voices of dozens of high-spirited Hogwarts students chattering and laughing drowned out even the noise of the driving rain against the pub's window panes.

Severus hated it. He preferred the gloomier but quieter Hog's Head, where you could sit unnoticed and undisturbed in the many darkened nooks and alcoves beyond the bar. Granted, it was grubby, smelt of goats, and 'unnoticed' was a relative term, for most of the witches and wizards that frequented the place had sinister reasons for drawing their hoods and cloaks about their faces to avoid recognition. But the Barman was notoriously intolerant of any loud disturbances (they might attract unwanted attention from the prowling Auror patrols) though he was shrewd enough to close his eyes on the many illicit goings-on of his clients.

Loud guffaws and a series of wolf-whistles from a large group of fourth-year Hufflepuffs being served by the buxom Barman's daughter, Rosmerta, grated on his nerves. His irritation was further compounded when two giggling girls inextricably linked arm-in-arm jostled past his chair to get to the bar. He clutched his bottle of butterbeer tightly for he could feel the tingling sensation of a curse itching to be released on these mindless, chattering fools – his hatred of crowds bordered on the phobic, and the Three Broomsticks was full to more than its capacity with teenagers eager to escape the unrelenting rain of this February Saturday afternoon. There were so many students that many had no place to sit, but undeterred by this, they crowded round the bar or stood in noisy groups about the tables.

Rosier and Wilkes had managed to secure a small table near the fireplace and Severus had the distinct impression that the real reason Rosier had insisted on the Three Broomsticks rather than the Hog's Head was because the Slytherin Prefect, Nyneve, would be here.

Sure enough, barely 15 minutes after they had sat down, a curly-haired girl detached herself from her group of friends as soon as she saw Rosier and came over.

'Hi, Evan!' she said with a wide smile, twirling one of her chestnut locks about her fingers. Her pale blue eyes barely even looked at Wilkes and Severus as she gave them a cursory nod of recognition.

'It's mad in here,' she continued, pouting becomingly at Rosier, 'We couldn't find a place to sit.'

She indicated the two Slytherin girls she had been with, and Severus recognised Cassiopeia Blackwater and Gloriana Bletchley. Gloriana winked at him.

He fixed his eyes firmly back on his butterbeer bottle, feeling both irritated and uncomfortable. Someone dug him sharply in the ribs.

'Looks like that Gloriana's got 'er eyes on you!' Wilkes gave a snorting laugh.

'If you do that again, Marcus, I'll hex your elbows back to front!'

'What'd you promise her, Severus?' Wilkes leered, ignoring him 'Gloriana doesn't usually bother with younger boys, and you're definitely too scrawny to be good-looking...'

'Which is why she was probably winking at a muscle-bound gorilla like you,' he retorted smoothly, 'I'm out of here. This place's too crowded.'

He looked distastefully across the table where Rosier had managed to persuade a giggling Nyneve to sit on his lap, thus solving her seating problem. He moved to get up.

'No, don't go, Severus,' Nyneve said, suddenly noticing him, 'My friend wants to speak to you. I'll call her-'

But both Gloriana and Cassiopeia had moved off. Severus could see them heading towards the door of the Three Broomsticks, a large green umbrella in their hands. Mentally breathing a sigh of relief, Severus was about to get up and leave when something stopped him dead in his tracks.

In a corner at the far end of the room, a couple of teenagers were sitting at a small table near the hearth. He hadn't noticed them because Nyneve's friends were blocking them from view. The girl was sitting with her back to the wall, and he'd recognise that dark red hair, those vivid green eyes anywhere. Lily Evans was sitting with her latest date right across the room from him. The boy had his back to him, but he knew he was some random Hufflepuff that had been sniffing around Lily with the rest of the other boys.

He hovered half-in half-out of his seat uncertainly, the urge to escape this place growing stronger, yet in conflict once more with that self-destructive, tremulous curiosity of seeing how Lily behaved towards these moronic fools she was dating.

'Did you sign up for Apparition lessons? It was on the Notice Board this morning' Wilkes was asking, 'Fee's not too bad at 9 Galleons. You should make it.'

Severus dragged his eyes away from Lily to glare at Wilkes. But it was apparent that Marcus didn't mean to take a dig at his poverty: he just had the sensitivity of a rampaging Hippogriff.

'Yes. I've signed up' he answered laconically.

'I just can't wait to apparate!' Wilkes said, eagerly, 'D'you think it's as difficult as they say?'

'Only for those who aren't _scrawny_ enough to pass through the medium,' he answered nastily, as his eyes swivelled once more towards Lily.

Wilkes looked worried. 'Does being heavy count against you?'

Severus didn't answer him. Marcus obviously wanted to keep talking to him for Rosier and Nyneve were quite engrossed in each other, but Severus had just seen that shy eager look on Lily's face that was always there when she started going out with a new boyfriend.

'Well?'

'Well what?' he snapped irritably at Wilkes.

'Does being heavy- ?'

'It's mind over matter, Marcus. And you're lacking in the first and over-endowed in the second, so I doubt whether you'll be disappearing into thin air any time soon!'

Severus smirked as Marcus Wilkes relapsed into grumbling silence behind his butterbeer bottle. He himself was secretly looking forward to learning Apparition and had scrounged hard for months to scrape together the required amount, for he wouldn't dream of asking his mother. She had probably forgotten that sixth-years had apparition lessons anyway, and besides she'd have enough financial problems if his father lost his job again. Unfortunately, he was still several galleons short of the required amount, and he'd have to think hard how to make some gold very quickly before Slughorn came to collect the fee for the Apparition lessons.

A particular laugh interrupted his musings, a laugh he could pick out among a hundred others in the crowded pub. Lily was laughing at something her Hufflepuff boyfriend said and her face was flushed with the heat from the fireplace nearby. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched the back of the boy's head, and though he was half-hidden by the crowds of students, he need not fear that Lily see him looking because she had eyes only for that moronic fool in front of her.

He saw her looking searchingly in her boyfriend's eyes, a shy but friendly smile on her lips, and a steady, inquiring gaze in her green, almond-shaped eyes. She leaned closer across the table as though to physically capture something she could not see.

The back of her boyfriend's large ears started growing red and Severus could see that he was getting hot under the collar beneath that green-eyed gaze. The dunderhead must have mistaken her searching look for eagerness, because he suddenly grabbed her hand and leaned in for a kiss. Severus, sickened, closed his eyes, hearing hot blood thundering through his head as mental images of the large-eared Hufflepuff slobbering all over Lily rose in him like gall. When he opened his eyes again, Lily was smiling shyly at her date. But it was a _polite_ smile, and there was the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, as she imperceptibly moved back in her seat.

The bat-eared boy noticed nothing of course, but Severus knew Lily well, and it was bad news when her natural sincerity was replaced by this artificial politeness. He smirked: apparently the Hufflepuff did not have whatever Lily was looking for. He knew she would break up with him soon.

He stood up, wondering for the umpteenth time what the hell it was that Lily was expecting from her dates: unlike him, none of them messed around with the Dark magic she abhorred so much, or were involved with Death Eaters.

Or had ever called her 'filthy Mudblood'.

His mind hastily veered away from that thought and the painful memories that always followed, like a malevolent shadow, immediately afterwards. But why in Merlin's name was Lily dumping her perfect boyfriends so quickly?

'I'm coming with you,' Marcus Wilkes had got up to leave too, looking ruefully across their table at Rosier, who was whispering in the giggling Nyneve's ear, his arms possessively around her waist.

Before they reached the door however, Marcus Wilkes, who was a Beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team, was, to Severus'relief, waylaid by some third-year Slytherin fans, so Severus went out of the Three Broomsticks alone, clutching his cloak around him against the driving rain.

He had cast a water-repelling charm on his cloak, never wanting to bother with umbrellas, but by the time he arrived at the great oaken front doors of Hogwarts castle his hair was soaked and trickles of rain had seeped in icy rivulets beneath his heavy black cloak.

Shaking his wet hair out of his eyes he shivered slightly as he made his way across the Entrance Hall and through the door that lead to the dungeons. He was wondering whether to go to the Slytherin common-room - it would be half-empty since apparently everyone was cosily flirting their heads off in Hogsmeade. The thought however, somehow made him want to avoid even the few first- and second-years who would be loitering around there: his lonely dungeon hideout seemed better fitted to his mood so he directed his steps to the deeper parts of the dungeons.

He was passing by a large arched opening with a flight of wide shallow steps that led down to the cellars when he first noticed it: a pleasantly unpleasant smell of Magnolia and something musky. He had smelt it before.

'Hello Severus, I thought you'd be passing this way.'

A figure swayed from the darkness up the shallow steps and Gloriana stood before him, a smile curling her full lips as her eyes took in his bedraggled appearance.

'Why, Severus, you look quite cute with wet hair hanging about your face that way,' she continued, moving close and speaking in a low confiding tone as was her want.

Severus, his mind unable to process the 'quite cute' description, pushed past her, trying not to breathe in her perfume too deeply, but her hand went round his arm, stopping him.

'Oh, come on, Severus!' she pouted, 'I've got what you wanted!'

He stopped and looked back at her.

'Got what?'

'The ingredients! For the Amortentia, remember?'

He looked at her for a second in silence, but his curiosity got the better of him, for some of the ingredients were quite rare and expensive. At the back of his mind an uneasy voice was telling him she was standing too close.

'Where're they?' he asked abruptly.

Gloriana's smile broadened. 'In the dark, down by the cellar door. I thought I'd better not get caught with stuff like that in my hands. Come on, I'll show you.'

He reluctantly allowed her to pull him down the wide, shallow steps. With a wave of her wand, she lighted one of the strange black tapers that lined this particular flight of steps before they entered the pitch-black darkness at the bottom. The shivering blue flame of the black taper threw their long shadows jaggedly down the steps, Severus remembered how these eerie lights had once frightened Lily when she had got lost on her way to his dungeon hideout and accidentally stumbled on the Fat Friars' Deathday party.

'Here they are,' Gloriana pointed to a plain brown paper bag lying near the huge round wooden door that led to the cellars at the bottom of the steps.

Severus picked it up, hearing the reassuring clink of phial bottles inside and the rustle of herbs. Opening it with an eagerness he couldn't disguise he found: Powdered Ashwinder egg, treated with a Freezing Charm; Asteria amethyst; and feathers from the flame-crested Ibis. Reassuringly, the aroma of the Cupidavidis herb was unmistakeable : it was one of the most expensive of the Amortentia ingredients. He glanced up over the top of the brown paper bag at Gloriana. How in Merlin's name had she managed to get her hands on that? The curvy seventh-year was smiling expectantly at him over the bag, the pale blue light turning her large curls into a feathery halo about her face.

'Where'd you get all these from?' he asked, a note of admiration creeping into his voice.

'Oh – you know Michael Blodgett, his uncle has several apothecary shops around the country, and I asked him to beg some off his uncle. He was happy to do it for me… for old times' sake. He was my boyfriend once.' Her voice grew lower, almost purring as she leaned closer.

Severus could smell the overpowering odour of Magnolia again. It was making him feel light-headed and strangely reckless... no, not reckless..._uninhibited._

'What's in this perfume you're wearing?' he asked huskily, clinging desperately to some remnants of cohesive thoughts.

'Magnolia; Black Orchids,' she grinned, '... and a few other things. Witches' secret. The recipe for the perfume has been passed down the female line of my family for generations. Funny you noticed Severus – most don't. I guess it just shows what a great potioneer you are.'

She let the admiration in her voice show in her large eyes, their pale blue rendered darker by the strange light of the thin black candles and the dilated pupils.

'Don't you think it's kind of risky running around with something like that on you?' Severus said, trying to inject a note of common-sense into the conversation, 'Some boys just don't have any self-control, and – '

'Oh but I love danger, Severus. It's _exciting_. Besides, I have the antidote, should things get out of hand...'

Her hand made an involuntary movement to her breasts. Severus, who had followed the slight movement, wished he hadn't, for he noticed that her collar was open as far as it would go and he could see the pale flesh beneath, and the beginning of an ample cleavage. He tore his eyes away with difficulty. Whatever she meant by 'antidote' – perhaps a phial of Anti-testosterone Brew – was hidden down her front. Part of his brain was wondering what ingredients both perfume and antidote could have in them, but Gloriana had put her hand gently on his, giving it a slight squeeze.

'But I don't really need it with you, do I?' she said, with a strange smile, 'You're the most self-controlled wizard I have ever come across - for certain things, at least. Though I did see that Narcissa Black kiss you once – '

'It was her farewell party. It meant nothing.' Severus protested sullenly, comparing Narcissa's composed aloofness and beauty with Gloriana's ostentatious manners.

There was no comparison, but Gloriana did have a kind of buxom prettiness that was alluring. Her confounded perfume enhanced the effect, especially when in the intimate semi-darkness of a confined space like the one they were standing in.

'We used to call her the Ice Queen. It must have been like kissing a statue, not someone made of flesh and blood,' Gloriana continued.

He said nothing, for was afraid that he'd say or do something stupid. He tried to concentrate on not inhaling the perfume, but given her close proximity, that was impossible. He had to get away from her, but her next words stopped him in his tracks.

'But _I'm _made of real flesh and blood, Severus' she whispered, her large eyes holding his in a steady gaze and her small warm hand travelling up his arm.

He took a step back to dislodge her hold on him, but found himself with his back to the wall.

'Are you afraid of me?' her lips curved into a knowing smile.

_Shit! His body language had 'sexually naïve' written all over it._

He took a steadying breath and put down the bag of ingredients.

'No,' he said firmly, 'But I believe you wanted me to brew something for you?'

'So you'll do it? You'll brew Amortentia for me?'

Severus hesitated. Then he nodded slowly. He didn't care if some stupid Pureblood wizard was tricked into marrying Gloriana Bletchley – that's all these snobs were interested in anyway – manufactured love that was easy come, easy go – as long as their bloodlines were protected and galleons were gained. He wouldn't even call it a 'love' potion: it was more like _lust_.

That was what was befuddling and inflaming his brain at this very moment, and he didn't give a damn: everyone was snogging everyone else in Hogsmeade after all, weren't they?

Even in the pale bluish light, he could see that Gloriana's face was ecstatic. The animated expression suited her, and somehow exalted her prettiness.

'Oh, thanks Severus, that's fabulous, I -!'

'But there is the brewing fee to consider.'

Predictably, her expression fell for a moment, but she recovered immediately.

'I thought we could come to an arrangement on that' her pink-tipped fingernails trailed up his arm once more.

'It's _Amortentia_, Gloriana, not any old Love potion. It would cost 60 galleons an ounce if you had to buy it'

'I don't have 60 galleons!' There was disappointment in her voice and, for the first time, a genuine pleading tone.

'It will take me the best part of 7 weeks to brew, and it's not easy potion, but I'll do it for you for 4 galleons.'

It was the amount of gold he needed for the Apparition lessons.

Gloriana's next reaction took him completely by surprise: she squealed in delight and jumped straight into his arms, so that he staggered slightly. The smell of Orchids and magnolia enveloped him completely, inflaming his senses and before he knew it he was holding Gloriana's warm weight tightly against him as her lips closed over his in a passionate kiss.

He stopped thinking completely.

He could focus on nothing else but how hot and urgent her lips felt... how expertly she claimed possession of his mouth, and how soft her body was as she pressed against him in a way that was driving him insane. One hand slipped beneath his cloak and up his back, sending the thrill of pleasure shivering through him and the other hand had been tangled in his wet hair, but now he felt its warmth travel down his neck and past his chest, further down to where she obviously knew she would find the evidence of his arousal.

Lust, not love.

_Damn!_

His hand closed around her questing fingers in a vice-like grip as he forcibly pushed her away from him. There was surprise as well as triumph in her eyes as she looked questioningly up at him. He tried to steady his breathing and his wildly beating heart.

'Save this for your Amortentia victim, Gloriana.'

'But I want to, Severus'

'No, you don't.'

She smiled knowingly. 'Actually you quite took my breath away. I never expected the famously controlled Severus Snape to be so ...uh... intense. Or to be made up of so much _flesh and blood_, you know'

Ignoring her pointed remarks, Severus picked up the bag of ingredients and pushed past her. He had to get away from her and her blasted perfume and find somewhere private. He was nothing to her and he couldn't go through with it. Not now. Not when under the influence of whatever was in that perfume.

'Don't follow me!' he said thickly over his shoulder as he started up the wide steps, his cloak billowing about him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**: **The Mountain**.

The wide meadow half-way between Hogsmeade and the boar-topped gates of the castle was filled with black-robed students wobbling strangely in what appeared to be an unusual type of sports or dance. There were hoops placed on the grass before each student and they appeared to be taking a twirling, flying leap into them.

Lily looked on with amusement as Mary Macdonald fell comically on her bottom again, her glasses askew and her face bright red. It was their third week of practicing apparition, but their first time of trying it out here in the open. Previously, the bad weather had confined them to the Great Hall, where Dumbledore had lifted the ban on apparition in order for them to practice.

Lily looked up at the bright sun, her spirits lifting. It was the end of March and this was the first fine spring day they'd had in weeks. The warmth of the sun and the smell of the meadow flowers were a good omen: she felt sure she'd manage to Disapparate today!

She hadn't managed to, yet. Their teacher, a short wizard dressed in long flowing robes called Airdrus Spedrow kept on about the three ds: Destination, Determination and Deliberation, but she couldn't for the life of her understand how those words would make her disappear into thin air.

To everyone's surprise, it was timid Jenny Trimble who had managed it first of all the sixth years – well, actually she splinched herself, and even though the Heads of House converged on her to repair the damage, the incident scared the nervous girl into refusing to try again. It had taken Lily the best part of the next day to convince her she was in safe hands with Spedrow and the Heads of house.

At their second lesson, although a couple more students managed to splinch themselves, only one managed complete disapparition: Severus Snape. Spedrow had been unstingy in his praise, saying that in his experience few managed to get the hang of it so quickly. Lily saw Severus cast a brief triumphant look in Potter's direction, but then remain impassive. Well, if according to Spedrow, Apparition was about determination and mind-over-matter, then it was hardly surprising Severus mastered the technique so quickly: she knew no-one more determined than Severus to get what he wanted.

It was just that what he wanted was all wrong…

She shook her head angrily, turning her mind away from such useless thoughts, but her eyes treacherously strayed in the direction of the Slytherin line of students, at the opposite end of the meadow. Severus was talking to Spedrow , bending over a bit for he was a whole head taller than the short wizard. She couldn't hear what they were saying well, for several other students had managed to dissapparate today and a loud cracking noise accompanied their disappearances. Apparently, it was about that that Severus was complaining:

'… could dissaparate without that abominable noise, sir, I'm sure of it!' he was saying.

'With time and experience you can do it more quietly, Mr Snape' Spedrow had an unexpectedly booming voice for someone his size, 'But there are rumours of the existence of completely silent apparition. I think some of our foreign counterparts are quite adept at it, as well as some great … or notorious …wizards in this land. Have you seen accomplish that Mr Snape?'

The last was said in a tone of suspicion. Lily knew Spedrow was referring to He-who-must-not be-named.

'No, sir,' Severus answered impassively, and turned back to his hoop.

Lily tore her eyes away feeling a cold shiver pass down her spine as though the sun had gone in. Severus had met Lord Voldemort – she had seen that wizards' red-eyed maniacal face in his memories the day he had cast the spell that fleetingly shared their minds, thoughts and emotions. Had he met Voldemort and his Death Eaters again since the occasion in the memory? Had he dug himself even deeper in their twisted ideals? Probably.

Though she tried her hardest not to look at him, it was unavoidable sometimes during their shared lessons and on occasions like this Apparition training. And when she did, the expression in his face never failed to chill her. It was a determination that bordered on the obsessional and there was an increasingly cold look in his eyes.

She sighed and tried to focus on the hoop she was supposed to apparate into. _Determination_: if only it was as easy for her as it seemed to be for Severus. Time; her strategy of involving herself with other people and her Prefect duties had blunted the raw edge of pain she had felt when their friendship had ended, but she still had to struggle hard to divert her thoughts from her old friend.

There was a loud crack and Remus Lupin apparated in the hoop next to hers. His expression was both ecstatic and incredulous.

'I did it!' he shouted in a tone of complete disbelief.

'Good for you, Remus! How was it like?' she moved over towards him, together with Mary, who seemed to have given up trying.

'Well, a bit uncomfortable,' he said grinning broadly and rumpling his thick brown hair, 'like being squeezed breathless. But that's okay – it's really great knowing you can do it!'

'Wish I'd even _feel _something when I'm trying!' Mary grumbled 'As it is, I only feel ridiculous!'

'Same here,' Lily said, ruefully.

'Better get back to your hoop- hopping girls, McGonagall's looking this way. And I think Spedrow 's coming over. He'll want a repeat performance I guess.'

'Ok, Remus! Good luck! I'm sure you've nailed Apparition!' She gave his arm a squeeze and returned back to her position. Minutes later Remus managed to dissapparate and apparate neatly in his hoop on Spedrow 's cue. As Spedrow went back to mark his passage on his students notes, Remus gave a mute victory sign in his friend's direction, then turned towards her a broad smile illuminating his face. They would be taking their test at the end of April, and Remus would have no difficulty.

She gave a thumbs-up signal and smiled back. It was good to see Remus looking so happy and well. He had been very sick again at the beginning of the month and had disappeared for several days, coming back looking pale and worn, his arms heavily bandaged and thin, white, dittany-healed scars still visible down his cheek. Even his friends Potter and Black had been concerned about him, for Remus hadn't seemed the same since, or else was taking longer to recover. She had tried to ask him, when alone during the patrols they had to carry out as Prefects, whether anything was wrong, but he had given her a lop-sided grin and assured her everything was alright. However, she had seen the worried look in his eyes: they spent a lot of time together now as Prefects and she had got to know Remus Lupin even better than before.

Something was bothering him - she was sure of it. Throughout the past year, she found herself relying more and more often on his quiet support when they had to face the increasingly vicious attacks between students belonging to the opposite factions of the wizarding war. He had a gentle nature yet a calm steadfastness that counterbalanced her sometimes fiery and impulsive outbursts. They made a good Prefect team, - if it wasn't for the big blind spot he had for whatever mischief his other three friends got up to, and his own regular disappearances.

Something Severus had once told her shifted uncomfortably at the back of her mind, but she ignored it. Right now she was just happy that Remus seemed back to his old self. She felt a smile spread slowly across her face as she stared at her fellow Prefect's proud stance as silent messages of congratulations were directed at him from his fellow Gryffindors. He was the first in her house to manage apparition.

Her spirits rising once more she concentrated on the inside of her hoop and turned round gracefully on the spot, determined to arrive there. A second later a strange sensation squeezed the air out of her lungs and the sun, meadow and sound of birds and students were swallowed up by a blackness that enveloped her.

When she opened her eyes she was standing a few yards away in the round hoop.

IIIII

It was the last house of the village of Hogsmeade, a small thatched cottage about a hundred yards away from the other buildings, and its front was covered with an untidy riot of flowering climbers half-covering the small windows. Beyond this last cottage there was only a narrow footpath that led straight to the looming mountains beyond.

Two Hogwarts students were making their way briskly towards the last cottage. The sun was already getting low in the sky as the day drew to a close and it glinted off two red Prefect badges on their chests.

'They'll be there, you'll see. Sirius likes the old witch – she bakes him muffins,' Remus grinned.

'Muffins? How on earth did he get her to do that?' Lily replied, slowing down to let Remus catch up 'Sirius Black doesn't seem the type to charm geriatric witches'

Remus shrugged, panting slightly and gave her a wan smile. 'He talks to her about the many stray dogs and cats she keeps, and she took a liking to him. You shouldn't judge Sirius too harshly, Lily, he can be charming: even to old ladies – and it's not just for the muffins.'

Lily frowned but decided not to argue, for Remus was not looking well again today.

'Well, charming or not, we'll have to find them Remus. They're the last stragglers and you know McGonagall will have a fit if we don't get everyone back from Hogsmeade on time.'

'I guess so. James keeps saying all this extra security's overkill, but – oh, there they are!'

At that moment the door of the cottage creaked open and James Potter and Peter Pettigrew came out. Behind them Sirius Black was at the door talking to a white-haired old witch who was so old and bent he had to lean down to speak to her.

'We were looking for you,' Remus said mildly, as they came up.

'Hello, Moony,' Potter said, his eyes fixed on her, 'Evans.'

He uttered her name quietly, without the usual grinning self-confidence and panache used to bother the hell out of her. Even his attitude to her boyfriends, which had been nothing short of atrocious, had eased off a little.

Perhaps that was because she wasn't dating anyone for some time now. Or perhaps he had given up on her...

Something in the way he was looking at her told her different. The glasses magnified his hazel eyes and she wished he would look away, she wasn't used to seeing James Potter look so ... well... _serious_, almost crestfallen. Pettigrew was eating something out of a paper bag which he proffered to her.

'Wanna bun?' Petter Pettigrew said in a muffled voice, spraying crumbs everywhere.

'No, thank you,' she replied coldly. 'You've got to go back now, all of you. You know the rules.'

'You weren't so bothered with rules once, Evans,' Potter leaned closer, dropping his voice, 'remember?'

Lily frowned, knowing what he was referring to. He had more than once come upon her out of bed after curfew and in rather awkward circumstances, usually in the company of Severus Snape. On one of those occasions, it was his invisibility cloak that had saved her from getting caught. She felt herself redden guiltily.

'That - that was different,' she stammered in confusion.

'What's so different?' Sirius Black had just come up to stand by Potter.

She glanced round at Remus for support but he was talking to the white-haired old witch. Turning back to Potter she saw him grinning at her confusion. She scowled. This was more familiar ground...

'It's different, Black, because unfortunately for you – and, perhaps, me too– I'm a Prefect now and my job is to see that all Gryffindors arrive back at Hogwarts on time,' she paused, feeling slightly guilty.

'We're big boys, Evans' Sirius Black said 'We can take care of ourselves. More than you seem to think.'

'Yeah. But you wouldn't mind us getting into a spot of trouble, would you?' James Potter said, with a strange look.

'What's that supposed to mean, Potter?'

'Well, it'd give you the chance to yell at me again.'

'And why should that give me any pleasure?' she asked, knowing a second later that she'd put her foot in it.

'It doesn't?' Potter rumpled his hair, sounding genuinely surprised, but then he recovered and grinned widely 'I mean, I always suspected that, really. Well, then, if you're not going to yell at us, why don't you join us?'

'Yeah. You look like the kind of girl who loves an adventure.' She caught Black winking at Potter and her temper, that had been steadily rising, got the better of her. Something must have shown on her face for Potter held up a reconciliatory hand and his expression turned suddenly and unexpectedly contrite. She took a deep breath, unwilling to engage in any of the aforesaid 'yelling'.

'You will go back to Hogwarts,' she said through gritted teeth, 'because otherwise McGonagall threatened to ban Gryffindors from any further Hogsmeade visits: not only the offenders, but everyone else. '

'That's damned unfair!' Peter Pettigrew exclaimed, scowling, 'Anyway, she won't go that far-'

'Hogsmeade visits have been banned before. Like last year, remember?' she answered coldly, fixing them with a gimlet stare, 'I wouldn't want to be the one responsible for ruining everyone's fun.'

'Oh, bugger McGonagall,' Sirius Black hissed exasperatedly, 'Okay, okay, Evans, we're going. Anyway, I've got a date with Sheila Anderson tonight. Can't keep her waiting, she'll miss me. C'mon Prongs.' Sirius Black started off down the road, pulling Potter along.

'See you around, Evans,' Potter shouted over his shoulder, 'if you ever change your mind about adventures, you know I have that cloak...'

'I'm shouldering my responsibilities now, Potter. You should do the same.'

She stood watching them as they walked down the road and disappeared round the first cluster of houses in Hogsmeade. Perhaps she should follow them and see that they actually _did _make their way to the castle. McGonagall hadn't been joking when she threatened to ban the Hogsmeade visits. She had spoken quite severely to the Gryffindor Prefects last week, for in spite of Auror presence during the students' outings to the wizarding village, there had been a few skirmishes and unpleasant visits from Death Eaters in past months. Much to their displeasure, many students had had their permission to visit Hogsmeade actually revoked by worried parents.

She wanted to make sure McGonagall did not carry out her threat, but even more so, she wanted the students under her care to be safe. She herself had caught a glimpse of Voldemort's power and its far-reaching effects. She did not want anyone lingering where creatures like Dementors and Death eaters could be prowling about. She'd never forgive herself if someone got hurt. And given their patchy DADA lessons, some of the third- years she knew couldn't cast a Shield Charm to save their lives, or even block a simple hex, let alone a produce a Patronus Charm.

She looked back at the cottage, wondering what was keeping Remus so long. He had disappeared inside. She sighed in frustration. It was not the first time he had left her in the lurch where his friends were concerned. She even suspected that the extra pressure McGonagall had put on them to patrol the village and round up stragglers had something to do with forcing Remus to stand up to his friends. Lily knew he wouldn't. Most times she had to deal with them on her own, even though recently, Potter at least, had backed off a bit.

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something imperceptibly different. However, since she was avoiding Potter as she was evading Severus, she had decided not to think about it.

She set off down the garden path towards the ivy-covered door of the small cottage. She should really talk to Remus about his _laissez-faire_ attitude towards his friends, though like McGonagall, she'd probably be wasting her breath. Remus'loyalty towards his friends bordered on the unreasonable. He had even tried to put in a good word for James Potter, as though she'd ever bow down to that kind of pressure and go out with such an arrogant berk. Remus had backed off immediately, for she'd snapped his head off on that occasion, but his blindness to the Marauders' often-cruel pranks remained unchanged.

Well, that was not exactly true. Sometimes, Remus _did_ have a word with his friends about their excesses, but the effect did not last for long.

'Remus?'

She knocked but the door was not locked and swung further ajar.

'…and this will get him through the next couple of months till the summer solstice.'

The room was small, low-ceilinged and faintly redolent of cats and the smell of wet dog. Remus was standing next to the frail, white-haired old witch, who had a large bundle at her feet. Both looked up at Lily.

'Come on in, m'dear,' said the old witch, 'I thought you had left with the other young lads. Oh, I see… ' she squinted in the direction of Lily's chest, then her face wrinkled up in a smile. 'you're a Prefect, like young Mr Lupin here. Gryffindors, eh? I was in Ravenclaw myself, almost a century ago, now!'

She tottered to one of the many chintz sofas and sat down with a sigh. A ginger cat leapt up on her lap, purring loudly. Lily believed her: the wizened old face looked ancient, and there was something other-worldly about her serene expression. Lily stepped inside and closed the door. There were several overfed dogs lying in a snuffling slumber on a rug near the fireplace. A couple of them opened their eyes and sniffed lazily, but none of them barked as she came in.

'This is Lily Evans, Ma'am.' Remus said, 'Lily, Madam Mapleblossom'

'Call me Madam Mopsy, like the other lads do,' the old witch said as Lily murmured a greeting, 'I was just telling young Mr Lupin about my younger brother, Mendrick. He lives up in the mountains, and is a bit of a recluse, but he's made some wonderful discoveries.'

'It gets rather cold in winter up there…' Lily remarked, privately thinking that this Mendrick must be slightly touched to want to live there. Scottish winters were harsh.

'Oh, Mendrick doesn't mind. He's used to it, and he refuses to come anywhere near Hogsmeade himself, see? But I do take up some provisions every couple of months. In fact, I was preparing a bundle for him just now.' She indicated the large bundle at Remus' feet.

Lily stared. The old witch hardly looked strong enough to take care of the furry heap of dogs by the hearth, let alone climb a mountain, but before she could register her surprise, madam – explained:

'I used to go myself, up until some time ago, for I'm quite fit for my age, but then it got harder. The parcels are usually too big for owls to carry you see, and a couple of years ago, I had quite a bad fall down a treacherous slope on the south side of Ben Cόrhveinn and lost my wand, Would've lain there for days if a big black dog hadn't found me and gone for help. Animals are so intelligent, don't you agree?'

Lily who was stroking a large ginger cat who had been rubbing himself against her legs, nodded vigorously. When she looked up the old woman was looking at her with a sad smile.

'The dog saved my life that day, for he fetched a strong, young lad to where I had fallen, who helped me back to safety. I never saw the dog again but the young lad comes to visit me regularly.' Something in her voice made her look up. Remus was smiling too.

'It was Sirius,' he said.

'Oh '

'Sirius and his friend, James Potter have been taking Mendrick's provisions up the mountain for me ever since, 'Madam Mopsy continued, 'I wanted to do it myself, but they wouldn't hear of it. Such nice young lads, and incredibly funny too – you should hear the kind of stories they come up with! Brighten up a lonely old witches' life they do!' she smiled fondly and patted the seat of the dog and cat-hair covered sofa next to her.

Lily did what she requested and sat down near her. Apparently, Madam – lived alone with her animals. The ginger cat jumped up on her lap, and started kneading ecstatically. Despite the tiny prickles of the cat's claws through the thick material of her robes, Lily felt as though she was in a slightly surreal situation. She couldn't get her mind around the idea of Potter and Black rescuing little old ladies and whiling away their time in this flower-covered old cottage. She had always seen them in the thick of it all and the centre of attention at the Three Broomsticks, surrounded by giggling girls and Quidditch fans. Madam Mopsy was still looking at her through her rheumy eyes as she fondled the cat to purring contentment on her lap.

'You love animals, don't you?'

'Yes Ma'am. I love helping Hagrid, the gamekeeper at school. He takes care of a lot of Professor Kettleburns' animals.'

'The cats and dogs keep me company, especially now I can't climb up the mountain to see my brother anymore.' Madam Mopsy said with a quiver in her voice.

Lily felt a painful wrench in her heart. Madam Mopsy reminded her of her dead grandmother, left alone to mourn the loss of her husband with nothing but a lifetime of memories to keep her company. She didn't know if there had ever been a Mr Mapleblossom, but the old witch certainly missed her brother.

'Apparently, Madam Mopsy was going to ask Sirius and James to take up this bundle when we came along,' Remus said.

'I meant to ask them before they left, but then you came along and young Mr Lupin mentioned there's a strict curfew tonight. I didn't want to get the young lads in trouble…'

'I didn't know –' protested Remus, but Lily cut across him:

'We'll take it up for you Madam, it's no problem! Just tell us where.'

She ignored the smug look Remus was giving her, and looked at the old woman's face creasing into a smile of relief.

'Will you really, deary? Oh. I'm so glad! I worry so much about Mendrick. He's not so young any more, and some of the discoveries he made up there seem to be downright dangerous…

The old lady tottered to one of her windows and pointed out the tallest, craggiest mountain of all.

With a grim smile, Remus pointed his wand at the bundle, levitating it and followed Lily out of the front door and towards the mist-shrouded heights of Ben Cόrhveinn looming above them .


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:Dark Secrets and the Raven-winged Cave.**

'What?' Lily asked, scowling, as they trudged up the sloping path towards the distant mountain some minutes later, a large bundle levitated between them. Remus Lupin was looking at her with an amused expression.

'Oh, nothing, 'Remus said, 'but you were very adamant with James about getting back to the castle on time…'

'We're _Prefects_,' Lily said, stubbornly 'we're allowed to stay later if necessary'

'To round up stragglers, and make sure everybody gets back safely'

'D'you want to leave that poor old woman alone with her bundle?'

Remus laughed. 'Don't get your knickers in a twist. Of course I want to help her. Besides, James and Sirius wouldn't let me forget it if I deserted their adoptive Grandmother!'

'Yeah, well,' Lily shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his friends. Probably they'd have a good laugh at her when they found out what she did, but she'd deserved it, 'let's get a move on, Remus, the sun's going down!'

Remus glanced up at the low sun, his expression turning suddenly serious.

'We can get back through the secret passage, 'he said, 'McGonagall will never know. Shall we apparate now?'

'_Apparate?_!'

'Yes, of course, it will be quicker. You did perfectly five times in a row last practice session.'

'Remus, we don't have our licences! We won't be sitting for our final apparition tests till the end of April, and that's almost 4 weeks ahead yet!'

'But we're both 17, the trace should've been taken off.'

'I think we're breaking enough rules as it is, Remus, if we're caught, or worse still, if one of us gets splinched-!'

'Okay, okay, let's hurry up then, it'll be dark in an hour or less.' With a worried look at the sun, Remus hurried his pace up the steep footpath and they travelled in silence for a while.

She had already started to pant and fall slightly backwards, but Remus did not seem to notice and in spite of his looking unwell, kept up a steady pace uphill. She noticed he kept casting anxious glances at the setting sun, and the lengthening shadows. This was rather odd since, unlike the Forbidden Forest, up here on the windswept mountain slopes there were no thick densely-growing trees to hide any death eaters or sinister creatures from view. There were only wild stretches of heather and bracken that sloped endlessly upwards towards the rugged peak. This was by contrast, made of bare rock. An almost vertical rock-face pock-marked with many caves and crevices.

Remus seemed so uncomfortable at the approaching darkness, that she eventually even consented to apparate across the heather slopes. They were bare and clear and, in her mind, easy to apparate across. They did it a few metres at a time at first, and then progressed to apparating in longer stages until they were right at the foot of the rugged mountain peak, a place that was dotted here and there with large grey boulders that had fallen off the vertical cliff-like mountain peak or had been eroded away down by weather. She put her foot down then, not wishing to apparate on top or slap-bang into one of those lichen-covered boulders. They were both still new to apparition, though Remus seemed more confident.

'We're almost there,' she panted, indicating the looming peak.

'Cave should be around here somewhere,' Remus murmured, 'but there seem to be so many of them.'

'She said it was shaped like a wing, and would be the last to fall in shadow. It's got to be in that direction - to the west.'

They climbed in silence for a while, but the slope was very steep and soon Lily was clutching a stitch at her side, and even Remus had to slow down his pace.

'Can we stop for a breather?' she said, leaning, exhausted, against one of the grey boulders, 'I'm really tired, and anyway a few more minutes won't make any difference now. It'll be way past curfew and dark by the time we get back to the castle.'

Remus stopped and she saw him glance at the sky. He looked even more pale and wan than he had done earlier, and the lengthening shadows of the setting sun gave him a more hollow-cheeked look than usual. However, he came down to sit by her side on one of the mossy boulders that dotted the desolate landscape, depositing the levitated bundle at their feet.

'I don't know why this Mendrick wants to live up here alone, 'Lily said, 'No wonder Madam Mopsy is so worried about her brother. Something could happen to him and no-one would know.'

'Apparently, he's even more eccentric than Mopsy. The Ministry tried to cart him off to St Mungo's once, saying that he was mad or something. But even Sirius doesn't know what happened exactly: Mopsy doesn't like to speak about what happened.'

'No wonder he wants to stay out of everybody's way then. I'd rather live on a mountain top than be locked up in an asylum. Is he that bad then?'

Remus shrugged. 'Neither Sirius nor James ever met him. They just leave the bundle in the wing-shaped cave.'

They fell silent. Remus was looking at the dying sun with a grim expression on his face. It was a strange mixture of dread and anger. She glanced anxiously at him. Perhaps he shouldn't have come. He had already looked unusually distant and unwell even before they left Hogwarts, though he did his best to hide it. It wasn't that he was _weak, _for he had climbed up the slope without as much as breaking into a sweat, but she had got to know him better this year as Prefects, and she knew that when he got like this, he would disappear for a few days into the hospital wing.

Or somewhere else.

An angry conversation that had taken place long ago came to her mind. She had argued with Severus then, angered at what she considered his wild accusations. That argument had come to her more and more often this year, as well as many tiny clues and events that she observed about Remus. She shifted uncomfortably and glanced at the silent boy at her side. It may have been the warm glow of the setting sun, but his normally brown eyes had turned tawny, flecks of gold in them catching the dying rays. His mind seemed miles away now, fixed upon Merlin-knew-what thoughts or images – painful ones, judging by the way his jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed. Thin white scars along one hallow cheek became visible by contrast with the red glow and shadows cast by the sun. His hair was windswept now, but he usually wore it long to hide them.

Her heart clenched painfully at his evident distress, and she had to fight the urge to either hug him or shake him hard- hard enough to get the truth out of him. Seven times this past scholastic year, she had seen him sickening, and she had to fight the urge to help him. It was almost as difficult to help Remus as it had been with Severus, though the reason seemed to be different. As Prefects, she had not only worked well with Remus, but she had come to know him and like him even more than she did before. Their friendship had grown and he was her friend, as well as her co-Prefect, and she had tried, many times before, to ask him if he needed anything, if she could do anything to help when he became sick, but he had turned defensive immediately, not out of pride like Severus, but seemingly out of fear, refusing to talk about it, and she had desisted.

Ever more often recently, thinking back to what Severus had accused Lupin of being, she shrank in fear at the magnitude of the problem, the terror of the consequences Severus had so rightly depicted. Consequences that involved not only her, but all who lived at Hogwarts. She had not believed Severus then, she thought guiltily.

But much as her mind dreaded even to contemplate what truths and horrors could be hidden behind those tawny eyes, he was her friend, he was _Remus, _gentle yet steadfast, fun-loving and always ready to help others. Lily couldn't quite believe he could be any different.

Perhaps she could force the issue.

'If we don't find the cave or Mopsy's brother, I'm coming back tomorrow night,' she said.

At first Remus didn't seem to hear her, but then he looked slowly round at her.

'_What!'_

'I'll come back tomorrow night,' she repeated, 'Will you come with me?'

Remus' reaction surprised her: his eyes widened in fear and his face paled even beneath the red glow of the sun.

'No – _no_! Merlin, Lily! What the hell d'you want to come back for? We'll find that damned cave!' he got up and prepared to set off without further ado, but Lily remained where she was.

'Perhaps I just feel like an adventure. I kind of miss those, now that…' she stopped, for the reason she missed them was not only because of her Prefect responsibilities, but because her friendship with Severus had come to an end. Ever since they were children she was the one to goad a reluctant Severus into 'adventures' as she called them, although when they grew older, Severus had taken the lead, and the adventures had turned into quasi-nightmares involving dark magic.

'Lily, you bit James' head off, when he suggested it, 'Remus replied, running his hand through his thick brown hair, despairingly, 'you told him to shoulder his _responsibilities, _remember?'

Lily made what she thought was a suitably petulant and stubborn face: 'I can take care of myself, Remus. Besides I know you sneak out often enough with your friends under Potter's invisibility cloak. So I can't understand why you're so scared now, but if you don't want to come with me …'

He didn't answer her for a second, and just stood looking at her with a stricken face, then his shoulders seemed to sag and he sat down by her side once more.

'I'm not scared of the Forbidden Forest, Lily. But it's – it's dangerous' he said, looking at her pleadingly, 'you said so yourself. Please promise me you won't go there tomorrow.'

'Why not?'

His eyes flickered imperceptibly to the east where the pale shape of the waxing moon was already visible. It was almost full. She did not miss the gesture, and something icy cold seemed to pass, shivering, through her heart.

'Because –' He paused, and though she tried to keep her hard expression, her heart was beating very fast. She could see the internal struggle going on inside him.

'Because I will not be able to come with you tomorrow,' he said finally in an anguished tone, and looked away.

She was silent for a moment, for he was growing more agitated. Her heart went out to him, for if the truth was the terrible secret she suspected, then wrenching it out of him would be painful. But she had to know. And she had to know the truth from him and not anyone else.

'Any particular reason?' she asked crisply, but then added in a gentler tone, 'I know it's not because you're scared, Remus,'

He looked up at her then, searching her face. The last rays of the dying sun had disappeared and the warm afterglow was rapidly turning into the half-light of twilight.

'I – I won't be able to come because I …because I will be too ill to come,' was all he managed to say finally, his eyes never leaving her face.

There was something so scared, yet so tremulously hopeful in his expression, that her heart went out to him. He must feel so lonely burdened with such a secret, knowing that one word would make him an outcast in the wizarding world, one word, and his friends would all run from him in fear. She was his friend, and she couldn't run away from him.

'I _know,_ Remus' she whispered gently, placing her hand on his arm, 'I know …everything.'

He looked down at her hand on his arm, and she felt it tremble slightly. When his eyes sought hers again there was disbelief in them. Probably he thought she wouldn't want to touch him if she knew. She gave his arm an encouraging squeeze.

' D'you know that I'm a… I'm a…?' a pained expression crossed his eyes, and he couldn't bring himself to say the word, and his voice quivered as he looked away momentarily.

'Lily, I don't want to lose your friendship,' he said in a low voice, his face pale in the fading twilight, 'Do you _really_ know what I'm suffering from?' he wouldn't look her in the face now, but bent his head to contemplate the weatherworn grass at his feet.

'It's full moon tomorrow, Remus. I've suspected for a while now.'

He lifted his head and looked at her, and she felt his arm tremble even more violently.

'And you're NOT losing my friendship' she said fiercely, putting a protective arm around him.

'_Merlin_, Lily' he choked out, turning into her embrace. His voice was thick with emotion as he brought his hands to cover his face, and she felt his whole body shake. 'I thought you wouldn't even want to speak to me - no girl would - knowing what a … a …_monster _I am –'

'You're not a monster, Remus! '

But he broke away from her and suddenly clasped her hands, shaking his head.

'That's because you've never seen me! You're a Muggleborn, Lily. You've only seen werewolves and such monsters in _fairytales_! You've no direct experience of such things! No, _listen_ -!'

He overrode her when she tried to protest.

'Lily, I want you to promise me you won't wonder out into the forest tomorrow!' he spoke urgently, and fear tinged his tone.

'Ok, ok, I promise.' Lily replied, alarmed at his tone 'I only said that because I wanted you to tell me the truth, Remus' Lily replied, ' I – I'm sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have forced you to, clearly I've upset you, but I want you to trust me…'

Remus let go of her hands, an expression of relief passing fleetingly across his face when she promised. She could understand that the Forbidden Forest was a dangerous place – she'd had first- hand experience of that, but she still couldn't understand his overreaction to her going to the Forbidden Forest alone, if he couldn't accompany her. After all, the _Marauders_ had been there.

'D'you want to tell me what happened, Remus?' she asked gently.

He gave her an uneasy look. His face looked almost haggard as the moon rose, throwing its pale light over the mountain landscape. Suddenly, a lot of things became clearer to her. Suddenly she understood why Remus was so shy – almost standoffish with girls: he knew none would ever accept him. She understood the reason why he was so eager to please, so grateful and defensive for the friendships he _did_ have. Potter, Black and Pettigrew had found out long ago about his Lycanthropy and had yet stood staunchly by his side.

Perhaps there was a bit more to the other three Marauders than a group of bullies intent on terrorising those less capable than they were. Her opinion of the Marauders changed into something slightly less disdainful, and more curious in nature.

'I'll tell you how it happened,' Remus was saying, getting up again and pointing his wand at the large bundle, 'but perhaps we'd better get going, it'd be more difficult to find a wing-shaped cave in the dark.'

'You're right,' she got off the boulder and they set off up the last steep slope.

'It was a werewolf called Fenrir Greyback,' he started, as they trudged uphill.

He told Lily about his hidden life, how Dumbledore had saved him from a dismal fate when he allowed him to come to Hogwarts, and how grateful he was for it, and how the Headmaster and Madam Pomfrey had taken the necessary precautions for keeping him safe during his transformation. He skipped over the harrowing details Lily knew were there, in spite of her muggleborn upbringing, and in spite of him glossing over the more morbid aspects, she knew now why she saw barely-healed scars on him, and why he looked at the setting sun with so much despair.

It was the _anticipation_ of what was to come, Remus explained succinctly, rather than being actually unwell with the waxing of the moon. He did not elaborate, but Lily had seen the despair and fear in his eyes only a short while ago, and that expression was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Remus had fallen silent again, having probably been reminded that tomorrow was full moon and the painful transformation was close at hand.

She glanced at the tall young man striding silently beside. A _werewolf_. Any other girl might have felt the thrill of fear walking within nudging distance of a werewolf the night before the full moon. But on the contrary, Lily's admiration for his quiet strength of character had increased in leaps and bounds. She felt sad and indignant that someone so young should have to suffer so much. It wasn't _fair._ Her initial doubts about his being a danger to others dissipated: after all, if Dumbledore had taken the necessary precautions (Remus hadn't been very clear as to what they were) then that was good enough for her. If only she could do something to help Remus as much as he said his friends did to get him through it. She looked round with a small sigh at the moon. Its pale light painted the mountain peak before them in stark bluish-black: deep black crevices fissures and caves contrasting with pale blue-grey bare rock.

She had been staring at it for a few seconds before she realised.

'Remus! Look, there it is!'

It was unmistakeable. The shape of a large, soaring wing, as black as night, rose high in the vertical wall of the mountain peak, a cave that split the bare rock into a menacing dark maw. Lily had imagined the cave would be only a few yards high, but this was enormous. Fissures in the upper side of the cave mouth made it look like the primary feathers of a giant black wing, curved gracefully like that of a raven.

They approached the dark hole cautiously, for there was a brooding, ominous presence about it that was almost palpable. One lone, gnarled tree grew in twisting defiance of the elements at its mouth. Its branches were completely leafless and nothing moved in the eerie silence.

'Shall we go in, d'you think?' she said squinting at the gaping maw of the cave. She realised she was whispering.

'Well, just a short way in,' Remus said looking doubtfully up at the soaring wing-shape, 'we can't leave the bundle out here.'

Lily took a step forward approaching the entrance from near the dead tree and took out her wand. She was relieved to see Remus had taken his out too.

'This place gives me the creeps,' she whispered.

'The walls look ancient' he said examining the fissures at the top of the entrance 'the wing- shape seems to have been carved out –it's not a natural feature. It's as though someone or something has been here before – and I'm not talking about Madam Mopsy's brother.'

She looked up at the top of the cave entrance when suddenly something hard and scratchy wrapped itself tightly around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

She shrieked. It was the tree!

The gnarled old tree she had been standing next to had wrapped its dead white branches around her, forcing her to loosen her grip on her wand which fell to the ground. She struggled futilely, but the gnarled branches twisted around her body held her in a vice-like grip. Twigs and broken branches pricked her skin through the material of her robe and cloak, but she was completely helpless without her wand. What in Merlin's name -?

'Lily! _Lily!_ ' Remus had rushed forward and was pointing his wand at the branches surrounding her, but the branches seemed to be growing around her so tightly he could not get a clear shot without risking hitting her instead.

'Stay away, Werewolf!' a scratchy voice shouted above her head.

She twisted her head up and to her horror a face had appeared in the trunk of the tree, it's skin made up of wrinkled, rough bark, but the pair of narrowed eyes that were looking with extreme dislike at Remus, were a shiny bright silvery-gray.

A flash of white light from Remus' wand hit the high branches and twigs above the face, and she felt the tree shake, but it did not let go of her. Suddenly Remus seemed to lose his balance and stumbled backwards. Contorted white roots had emerged from the ground beneath him, wrapping themselves swiftly around his body.

'_Diffindo!_' he cried pointing his wand at the roots curling around his feet. There was a loud splintering sound as the roots were torn asunder, but a second later his expression turned to horror as from each severed root, two or three others sprouted, twisting themselves inexorably about him until he toppled over. One of the contorted roots slipped around his neck like a macabre boa constrictor.

'Stop! Stop it now!' Lily screamed in desperation, - at whom, she wasn't quite sure.

But the branches holding her had changed to a pair of bare, wrinkled, liver-spotted arms, the other branches retracted back into the tree trunk and the rough bark of the face turned into wrinkled skin: only the eyes remained the same. Lily twisted free just as the transformation of the tree into a white-haired old wizard was complete.

She ran and threw herself down by her friend's side.

'Remus!'

'I'm …I'm okay, Lily,' he gasped in a strangulated voice 'it's stopped.'

She tried to wrench the roots away from his neck, but she had lost her wand, and if Remus still had his, it was pinned down beneath the coils of twisted roots encasing him.

She looked up furiously at the old wizard, only to find him looking intently at her with those strange silvery eyes. He was dressed in a sleeveless ragged robe over which he had thrown some animal skins. Straggly white hair bushed out from his head, turned into a halo by the moonlight, and his weathered face was unshaven. His bizarre appearance was completed by one of the strangest wands she had ever seen in the wizarding world – it looked like nothing more than a crooked stick or twig– and it was pointing straight at them1

'Release him!' she shouted angrily.

' He's a Werewolf!' the old wizard said in a croaky voice, his eyes widening so much that the reflected moonlight turned them into pale orbs. 'He's dangerous!'

'No, I'm not! Anyway, what makes you say I'm a werewolf?' Remus cried defiantly.

Lily could tell he was speaking with more bravado than he was feeling.

'I've met you before, though you don't remember!' the crooked wand was pointing directly at Remus' head now, and the rugged lines of the old wizards' face deepened in a frown 'you are a creature of the night, contaminating the pureness of the Forest and its magic,' his voice rose in a tremulous, high-pitched cackle, 'You are part of the legions of dark creatures that turn the tides of war towards darkness! You are - !'

'He's a Gryffindor Prefect and my friend!' Lily interrupted heatedly, for Remus was turning pale at the old wizards' ranting, 'You have no right to do this! Who the hell are you anyway?'

The silvery orbs turned themselves onto her, and the look in them made her uneasy. There was something not quite right about this old man.

'My name is Mendrick.'

'Mendrick! We've come up with supplies from your sister, Madam Mapleblossom. Your sister is far more welcoming than you are,' she scowled.

Mendrick seemed not to hear her. 'When I saw you come up here with the werewolf I was afraid for you. It is the night before the full moon and they can be affected, you see. And you, of all witches in this land, must come to no harm. I knew it was you from your aura,' He took a step closer, a mad look in his large eyes and his scratchy voice quivering with age and excitement: 'I saw its golden power shimmering from far away and I knew the time had come.'

'What are you _talking_ about?'

Clearly this old wizard had gone a bit loopy living alone in the wilderness or else he was even older than he looked, and was going senile. She would have felt sorry for him, had he not just ambushed them and tied Remus up like an animal. Apparently, his magical powers were quite strong and unaffected by his age or madness. She was still on her knees so glanced down at the ground, looking for her dropped wand – she had to get them out of here.

'You have been touched by the Spirit of the Forest, that is why you have the same golden aura.'

Her head snapped up at those words. What did this crazy old man know about that? It was so long ago, and that gentle doe was long dead, killed by the last of the Knights of the Walpurgis.

'The Spirit of the Forest is an ancient spirit,' the old man explained, lowering his voice and his wand, 'It is embodied in the gentlest of Forest creatures: the Doe. When one dies the Spirit is embodied in another, and so it passes on from decade to decade, from century to century'

Lily knew she should be looking for her wand now that he had his guard down, but his compelling words reminded her of what she had seen and touched one autumn afternoon, when she was alone in the Forest with Severus, ages ago it seemed. When alive, that doe had saved their lives, and again later, in the shape of her own Patronus.

'You've seen the golden glow of the Spirit of the Forest, haven't you?' Mendrick leaned closer, the silvery eyes beneath the wrinkled brow boring into her, unblinking, 'Just as now I have seen it in you. I knew you would come to me: I have been waiting for this for so long '

'Who told you all this? What d'you mean, you _knew_?'

'I know your past, your present and your future!' the thin, quavering voice rose in excitement once more as he drew closer to her, the silvery eyes mesmerising her, 'I know this even though I don't know your name! I can _see_ and it was foretold that it would be through a young witch – a witch touched by the Spirit of the Forest - that the world would be saved!'

Wait – _what!_

'Don't listen to him, Lily! He's just a loony old fool!'

Remus was struggling against his bonds, only his head showing above the constricting roots. The moonlight made his face look drawn and haggard. He was right. She had to get them both out of here! She scrabbled around for her dropped wand: it had to be here somewhere.

'No, _listen!_' the old man hissed in an urgent voice, he took a few steps backwards, moving surprisingly quickly for an old man and with one swift movement of his wand, summoned Lily's wand from where it had fallen, 'I have discovered something up here. Something so important, so powerful –'

Lily jumped to her feet glaring at her wand in his hand.

'Yeah, your sister mentioned something to that effect,' Remus growled suddenly from where he lay on the ground 'But she didn't mention the Ministry wanted to cart you off to St Mungos either! You're _mad_!' 

'I - mad? You should see yourself when you're transformed, _werewolf_: you'd need a stronger definition for the word 'mad'! Andas for Ministry? Pah!' he made a noise of disgust 'I concern myself with matters beyond that which those fools there are able to see! I am Cassandra's last student, I have learnt from the _best!'_'

Lily saw that he was getting agitated, and Remus was struggling savagely against his bonds, his eyes glittering in uncharacteristically bad temper. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm her jangled nerves. Usually in such situations, Severus would take over, his cool Slytherin logic, and control under pressure, finding the easiest way out the trouble they used to get themselves into. He had chided her often enough on her reckless bravery which he called impulsive Gryffindor rashness; perhaps it would be good to take a leaf from his book now.

'So are you a Seer, Mr Mendrick?' she asked politely. It was best to humour him until she could see a way out.

'Call me Mendrick - the titles of common humankind mean nothing to me. I'm more than a Seer…Lily. That's your name, isn't it?' his silvery gray eyes turned to hers once more, 'I have discovered ancient magic here on this mountaintop. Magic so old it was here even before Hogwarts was built.' He indicated the bare rock of the mountain peak behind him, his voice quietening to a hushed excitement.

Lily glanced at the dark cave with misgiving. Severus used to call dark magic 'ancient magic'...

'This ancient magic has the power of a knowledge beyond the imagining of wizardkind. Throughout the eons of time, few have discovered its true meaning. I think the first to explore its depth was Rowena Ravenclaw: she has left her mark on the entrance in the shape of a Ravens' wing,' he indicated the soaring wing-shaped cave above them, 'I think she revealed her discovery to Merlin himself, who certainly _did_ make use of it, but since then… no-one. Not even the centaurs know. I have been ordained guardian of the cave. And it is a portal …' he dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper, and his eyes bulged wildly ' …it is a portal to the beyond. Well, sort of,' he ended, more prosaically.

Lily's eyebrows had been steadily rising as he said this, but true to her resolve, she tried not to show the disbelief on her face. This old wizard was a lunatic, and probably a danger to himself as well as whoever ventured here. How did Potter and Black never encounter this loony? From the corner of her eye she saw Remus had somehow managed to roll over.

'Oh, I see,' she said, calmly 'But I assure you, Mr –er ...Mendrick, I have nothing to do with all this, and if you give me back my wand we _really_ should get going –'

'It has everything to do with you!' the old man shouted suddenly, causing her to jump. 'This war is only seven years old, but it can last an ETERNITY! Only through you can the world be saved from a never-ending war! My mission is to show you the way: you cannot make mistakes at this early stage: the future is delicately- balanced and ever-shifting. But there is only ONE future that can prevent an eternity of struggles for wizardkind, and it concerns _you_! I want you to come to the cave with me and learn your destiny! Should anything happen to me, you will know the path you have to follow!'

He had actually grabbed her hand to drag her towards the cave but she resisted and stood her ground. She wasn't about to go inside that ominous place with a raving lunatic, and he was too old and frail to drag her unless he used a wand.

But Mendrick seemed to have forgotten he had both her wand and his own clutched in his gnarled hand. He stopped trying to pull her towards the cave and drew close to her once more.

'Listen, Lily,' the strange old wizard dropped his voice to an urgent whisper, and his pale gray eyes fixed on hers 'You have got to trust me … you've to come and _see_!

Something in his eyes, something in his voice made her hesitate. She could see now that he sincerely believed in everything he had just said. But she couldn't trust a crazy old man who had lived alone in this wild mountain top for God knows how many years? And Mopsy had said his discoveries, or whatever it was he had invented, were dangerous.

However, she was spared from having to answer, for something made the old man's head snap around. She followed his gaze in time to see Remus Lupin tear through the roots with a roar of rage. He had managed to somehow loosen the tree roots holding him prisoner just enough to be able to use his wand.

Each torn root sprouted three or four more roots again, but Remus was prepared for them now: he slashed his wand at them again and again, with a savage energy Lily would not have believed possible, given how sick he had been all day.

Mendrick pointed his wand hand at Remus, unleashing a spell that missed him but ricocheted like live lightening all around the mountain top. All three of them dove for cover. Mendrick had been holding both his own and Lily's wand when he cast that spell, and evidently, the results of magic thus divided was not what he expected. He hastily transferred Lily's wand to his left hand and slowly and awkwardly got to his feet. Lily saw her opportunity and made a swift dive for her wand, trying to wrench it from the old man's hand.

The momentary distraction was enough for Remus. He leapt forwards, with a whip-like movement of his wand, and an expression that sent shivers down Lily's back. Mendrick deflected his spell, but his reactions were slow, and Remus, who seemed to have found a demoniacal energy from somewhere, whipped his wand at him firing hex after hex so fast the old man barely parried them on time. The force of Lupin's attack was so strong that the old man staggered backward under the onslaught, then stumbled and fell awkwardly.

'Remus! Remus, stop! He's just an old man!' Lily shouted.

'Your aura is almost gone, werewolf!' the old man panted, with hate-filled eyes and his crooked wand held high, 'What's left of your aura is black, and if you knew what that means…'

Remus's face contorted into an expression of so much inhuman rage and pain that Lily froze in shock. Mendrick had managed to regain his feet, his wand in the duelling position, but Remus brought his wand down savagely at him and he staggered backwards, the force of the deflected spell almost knocking him over again. The next thing Lily knew was that Remus had Mendrick by the throat, with a look in his eyes that she had never seen there before. She snapped into action.

'_Ascindere_!' she cried and the spell left her wand with the force of a gale, literally blowing them apart. Remus fell heavily backwards down the sloping ground but was on his feet again in a thrice, his eyes on the old wizard. Mendrick, who had been standing uphill recovered more quickly, and to her relief, Lily saw he had conjured a Shield Charm – a strange silvery one, and was retreating backwards beneath it s cover towards the wing-shaped cave.

She turned to Remus who had not moved, a silent broad-shouldered statue standing rock-still like the grey boulders that dotted the hillside. Her heart was still beating wildly at what had just happened, for Remus' attack on the old wizard had frightened her more than the latter's mad ravings.

She approached Remus with some trepidation. He turned his head towards her as she came up. He was breathing heavily and his jaws were clenched, the thin white scars standing out starkly. Though his eyes had lost the blazing look she had seen in them, they had a glazed unfocussed expression and he was as pale as the moon, his thick brown hair as wild as the old man's. He was looking at her but not seeing her: whatever he was seeing, was painful.

'Remus,' she said, gently, putting a hand on his arm.

His eyes snapped suddenly to focussed on hers, and she felt a shiver pass through his body. His shoulders hunched and he bent his head, covering his face with his hands, twisting away from her.

'We need to get away from here, Lily. _Now_!' he said thickly, lifting his head to look at the moon, 'The old wizard is right about how black my aura is…'

'He's nothing but an old man driven insane by solitude, Remus. Don't let the same happen to you…'

He looked at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Then something shifted behind them and his shoulders sagged. Suddenly he looked sick, frightened and even weaker than he'd been that morning.

'Take my arm, Remus,' she said gently, 'We'll apparate to Hogsmeade.'

He slipped his arm through hers and just as the tight, breathless darkness of apparition swallowed her up, she could hear the old man's broken voice call after her:

'It is your destiny to save us all…'


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Resolutions and Resignations.**

The vapour coming off the cauldron glowed pearly-white in the dimly-lit dungeon. Like tendrils of an ethereal vine, it swirled upwards, twisting and curling onto itself like a live thing.

A pair of dark eyes were following the intertwining spirals as they rose up from the shimmering surface of the potion in the cauldron. The expression in them was hard to read, but the mother-of-pearl glow from the cauldron was reflected like a dancing light, giving them a softness that one seldom saw in Severus Snape's eyes.

He was standing over the small bench-top cauldron in his dungeon hideout, his attention focussed on the mesmerising tendrils of the spiralling vapour. His eyes slid shut and a slow sigh escaped his lips as he leaned forward placing his hands on either side of the cauldron.

So _this_ was Amortentia.

He had finally managed to brew the famous Love potion, - not a huge quantity, given how difficult it had been to get the right ingredients, nevertheless, the result was now swirling softly before him, its wraith-like vapour enveloping him in a myriad sensations and smells he thought he had forgotten. He _wanted_ to have forgotten.

His head drooped lower over the shimmering potion, long hair sliding down to cover his face. No – he hadn't forgotten. He could never forget, but they were things he had thought were lost to him forever. Unable to resist, he breathed in deeply as echoes of his love rose, ghost-like, about him, embracing him in a meadow-sweet smell, - _her_ smell, and the tendrils of vapour caressed his cheek, soft and warm, just like once she had. He felt a lump in his throat, and screwed his eyes in a desperate effort not to add tears to the potion. He felt he could just stand there and breathe in her sweet perfume, her very essence, for the rest of his days. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the tiniest remnant of cold logic that was somehow untouched by the rising fumes was warning him that such behaviour could be addictive, that it was just a _potion_, not Lily herself.

But logic was fighting a losing battle, and it was several minutes before he could wrench himself away from the cauldron.

He surveyed the mother-of-pearl light dancing in rippling reflections on the rough dungeon wall, breathing heavily and very much aware that his whole body was trembling. No wonder Lily had been so upset that very first lesson with Slughorn. Those had been early days, and at least then she might have still felt something for him. But he wasn't so sure of that now. It hardly could be, with all the boyfriends she was stringing along, and in the few lessons they still shared, she still determinedly acted as though he were invisible.

He gave a growl of frustration and slammed a couple of empty phials next to the cauldron. Taking up an iron ladle he started pouring the potion carefully into the phials, making sure not to breathe in too deeply. Wild, angry thoughts of slipping Lily the Amortentia crossed his mind. He knew he wouldn't – _couldn't _do that, but he could _fantasize_, couldn't he? Perhaps that would get her to look at him like he was human, again!

He stoppered a phial savagely. This potion was for Gloriana, and she'd want every drop of it. This was the last day of the Easter holidays and she would be arriving back at Hogwarts tomorrow. He had a fair idea that she'd be seeking him out first thing in the morning to demand the potion he'd promised her. She had, after all, managed to find the galleons to pay for it.

Galleons he had put to good use. Besides apparition lessons he had saved enough to buy some potion ingredients and a few other items to add to his collection of dark objects. He was building himself quite an arsenal of them. The Dark Lord himself would be impressed.

The Dark Lord.

His ominous silence was something that gnawed at his conscience day and night. The greatest wizard of all times had set him, Severus, a very particular task: to find and exploit the source of the rare magic he and Lily had been capable of unleashing, convincing Lily to join his rebel forces in the process.

A year had almost gone by since the dark lord summoned those Hogwarts students who were loyal to his cause, to the abandoned mansion on a windy hillside. He had been very understanding of Severus' difficulties on that occasion, citing that Lily, as a Muggleborn, would be difficult to persuade, since Muggleborns would not rank high in the new order. But Voldemort had indicated that Lily Evans would be the one exception. And Severus knew that once the Dark Lord was triumphant, as he was sure to be, it was the only way Lily would be allowed to keep her wand.

But his attempt at persuading her had gone awry and now his hopes of ever getting her on Voldemorts' side were dwindling to nothing. He breathed a frustrated sigh and stuffed the phials in his bag. The Dark Lord had given him a deadline which was fast approaching: he had to do this by the time they graduated from Hogwarts, or else...

Severus didn't know or else what, but he felt pretty sure that the Dark Lord would send someone else to persuade Lily: someone with far more forceful methods of persuasion than he had used – perhaps someone like Seth Mulciber, who just revelled in bending people to his will. And Lily wouldn't bend: he knew her well enough. She would, like any bloody-minded Gryffindor, resist, ramrod-straight with righteous fire until she was broken. His lips set in a grim line; he slung his bag over his shoulders and set off towards the door.

Even from the little he had seen and the few times he had met Voldemort, Severus also knew that despite his silence, the Dark Lord would never forget the task he had set him. The vast magical power that he and Lily could unlock together was something both warring factions would be eager to have on their side. But even alone, both he and Lily were becoming quite formidable with a wand: they were nearing the last year of their magical education and they were miles ahead from their classmates in many subjects.

And that was what he wanted to speak to the Dark Lord about.

He hated all this waiting. This not _knowing_ how the Dark Lord would take his failure with Lily. Of course, a great wizard like him did not suffer fools gladly, but Severus Snape's restless mind had been planning, endlessly thinking and scheming and conniving for _months_ now. How could he not? He was a Slytherin, and besides, Lily's survival in this war was at stake. Rosier had said he'd overheard his father say that the Dark Lord was vey busy at the moment, not only in London but right across the whole country, but Severus was sure that sooner or later he would be summoned in front of the great wizard, and he had to be prepared.

He hadn't worked out the details yet, but he hoped that he could offer the Dark Lord something better than Lily Evans– his own quite prodigious magical powers for one thing – he was strong enough to stand on his own two feet now that he was of age, and he could prove it! He hoped that what he could offer Voldemort would compensate the loss of one Muggleborn witch. It would hopefully, turn the great wizards attention away from Lily for the duration of the war and it would also help him, Severus, get over her. That would kill two birds with one stone. After all, judging by the number of boyfriends as well as the numerous giggling friends that somehow always swarmed around her like bees around honey, _she _clearly seemed to have got over him.

He had said he would stand alone way back in June, but it was hard for him to stick to his resolution when he had to come across her practically every day here at Hogwarts.

'_Praestigii retextus_' he hissed angrily, muttering the spell that reversed the Disillusionment Charm he had placed over himself when he left the dungeon. He had arrived in the corridor that led to the Slytherin common-room now.

Even while thinking how to sever all contact with her, how to cure himself of this obsession, he was, at the same time, making schemes and plans how to protect her and the secret magic they both harboured from both Ministry and the Dark Lord himself ( though admittedly, the latter would be the better option – at least Voldemort had promised her recognition after the war) - until he figured out what to do next.

He growled in frustration at his own pathetic ambivalence about Lily Evans, and bit out the secret password: '—'

The damp grey wall slid open and he stepped inside Slytherin common-room.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

As he suspected, it was only a few days later that Gloriana waylaid him when he was on his way down from Charms lesson.

She detached herself from her group of friends and ran up to him, placing a hand on his arm to stop him.

'Have you brewed it, Severus?' she whispered breathlessly, pushing herself as usual uncomfortably far into his personal space.

He scowled over her shoulders at the group of her seventh-year friends who were looking curiously at them. He hoped Gloriana hadn't spilled the beans about the _Amortentia_: he did not intend to spend any more time brewing love-potions for love-sick students: or witches scheming to snag a rich, pureblood boyfriend, like Gloriana.

'Follow me!' he barked out.

Without waiting to see if she followed, he whirled round and set off towards the stairs. Why couldn't she have found a more opportune moment and place to speak to him, instead of the crowded Charms corridor? He couldn't just hand over an illicit brew like that without attracting unwanted attention. Gloriana just didn't _think_! There was one disused classroom on the fourth floor that no-one bothered with. He walked swiftly through a deserted corridor, hearing with satisfaction Gloriana panting behind him as she struggled to keep up.

He was going too fast and her trotting footsteps were lagging behind him. He slowed down. Suddenly Gloriana's footsteps were then joined by others and the sound of voices in the distance. Damn! He hoped her friends hadn't followed them, but there was something familiar about one of the voices.

'…can't do that, Remus! Look – I'm on patrol tomorrow tonight, meet me then. We'll be alone and - '

The speaker stopped abruptly. He had turned round to allow Gloriana to catch up and though the two figures were silhouetted at the entrance to the corridor, he knew one of them was Lily Evans. The other was Remus Lupin.

Evidently Lily had recognised him for she froze in her tracks and, though her face was in shadow, he could see she was looking at him. Remus Lupin had slowed down and stopped, looking back hesitantly at Lily.

Suddenly he did not want to stay there any longer, just as much as he did not want to know why Lily wanted to meet Lupin alone.

Grabbing Gloriana by the arm he hurried her forward towards the disused classroom at the end of the corridor opened the door, dragged her inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

'_Muffliato_' he muttered.

'What was all that about?' Gloriana said, still trying to catch her breath.

She was looking at him with a surprised but rather wary expression. He did not answer her but went to one of the nearest desks and placed his bag on it.

'Were you trying to get away from those two Gryffindor Prefects?' Gloriana insisted 'Because for a moment I thought ….' She paused and her full lips twisted up into a smile as she sauntered up, '… well, I thought that you wanted what I had once offered in return for brewing the _Amortentia._ And I'm not speaking of galleons.'

Severus who was opening his bag stopped and looked up blankly at her. It took a few seconds for her meaning to sink in.

'You certainly made it seem _urgent_,' she continued, 'But I suppose I should've known better: you're a remarkably hard nut to crack, Severus Snape'

'I'll ignore the innuendo on that one, Gloriana. You know why you're here,' he retorted acerbically, rummaging in his bag.

'Oh, well, yes, I do. But it would've been nice to know that you just couldn't resist me,' Gloriana said candidly, 'After all, I'm a pureblood witch, and – ' she stopped.

'And what? I'm only a half-blood, right?'

'Yes' she shrugged, completely unabashed. 'I'm definitely better than that red-head out there. _She_ is a used to hang around with her, didn't you? Is that why you pulled me in here suddenly? Did you want to make her jealous or something?' she added glancing distastefully at the door as the footsteps of Lily and Lupin faded into the distance.

He glared at her angrily and fished out the phials of amertentia from his bag, banging them down on the desk before her. .

'Get your mind out of the gutter, Gloriana! Here. You have enough _amortentia_ to last you till summer. You know you have to add the last ingredient, right?'

'She had snatched up the bottles eagerly, the mother-of-pearl potion shimmering between her red-nailed fingers.

'Of course I do. A part of myself,' her eyes flickered to his uncomfortably, 'a rather unusual one. Anyway, thanks, Severus.'

He gazed at the phials clutched in her hands, their soft pearly whiteness in stark contrast to her scarlet-painted nails, and tried not to think that somehow she was taking away Lily's essence: it was just a potion, and the sensations it had awakened were really all in his mind, not in the bottles.

Gloriana was looking at him curiously.

'Is something the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost'

Without another word he pushed past her and out into the corridor.

IIIIIIIIIII

The next night, after the first curfew, he was wandering the fourth-floor corridor: under a Disillusionment Charm, of course. He tried to tell himself that he was just restless, that he couldn't sleep, that he was only making sure the way to the secret passage on the fourth floor was clear – any excuse to ignore the fact that his feet were leading him to the patrol area of the Gryffindor Prefects. But finally he had to admit to himself that he had no intention of going to the secret passage ( he preferred that passage way behind the mirror to the more unusable and risky one from the underground lake, even though the Marauders knew about it)

He knew that he was really wandering the corridors in order to find Lily Evans.

Not that he wanted to speak to her - but what he had overheard her tell Lupin yesterday had him worried and angry – mostly angry, actually. It seemed there was something going on between Lily and Remus Lupin.

He was furious with Lily. How could she think of adding Remus Lupin to her list of boyfriends? He was a _werewolf_, for Merlin's sake! Not to mention a member of the hated Marauders!

_There might be absolutely nothing of the sort between them_, his mind told him, reasonably. But 'reasonable' was not something that came easy to Severus Snape where Lily was concerned: she consistently defied all his considerable powers of clear-thinking and logic, waiving even his resolutions. Lupin was _dangerous_ – he had told her that!

Obviously, she had never believed him. She had never believed that the boy she was so casually meeting up with tonight was a werewolf.

And besides, what if she was going out with Lupin? What could he even _do_ about it?

Biting off a frustrated sigh, he saw that he had arrived at the mirror that hid the secret passage out of Hogwarts castle. He had become as good as Lily at casting the Disillusionment Charm. He could barely see the slight distortion of his own reflection in the mirror. All was quiet and still, and the dark corridor was dimly lit by a half-moon peering between scudding clouds. Of course, the Maruaders could be around under Potter's invisibility cloak but Severus suspected they knew of other ways of sneaking out of Hogwarts castle beside this particular secret passage. He walked silently in the shadows, his senses sharpened by the silence of the corridors, but he had to conclude it was deserted. From what Rosier had explained, each House Prefect had to carry out a patrol of the corridors around their area of the castle at least once before the senior students' curfew. This corridor was more in Ravenclaw territory, but given that both Lily and Lupin knew of the secret passage he had decided to check first.

It was only further up when he had cautiously stepped into the seventh floor that he heard the murmur of voices. It was coming from a narrow passage way some distance away from the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. It was where the Nun's portrait was: the serene old Nun had first told him about Dumbledore's friendship with his great-grandfather Severus Prince,back in his second year.

He drew closer, feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur. He wasn't even sure why he was putting himself through this: after all he felt physically sick when he saw other boys touch or kiss Lily. But Remus Lupin was not any other boy: he had seen for himself the crazed maddened red eyes of the werewolf and he had spent all last night thinking how those slavering jaws could rip out Lily's throat. It was not the full moon tonight, but it would be in a few weeks' time, and if she was going out with him…

Sure enough, it was Lily's voice he heard:

' … and you know I have full confidence in you, Remus,' she was saying. Her voice was gentle, persuasive. 'I rely on you a lot. You've got to take credit for that at least. And besides, Dumbledore trusts you.'

Silence followed her words, and when Lupin finally spoke, Severus could detect a quiver in his voice.

'Perhaps he shouldn't.'

'What are you saying Remus? You're a great Prefect! You even had Sirius Black looking ashamed of himself last time. I never saw _that_ aspect of him before!'

'Well, Sirius gets carried away sometimes. He's been over-disciplined at home, so he overdoes it here at Hogwarts!'

'Really? I didn't know that. He acts like such a –'

'I know Lily, but he's having a really rough time at home,' Lupin cut in quickly 'Anyway, you keep all of us Marauders under control. Potter's positively scared of you –' he gave a small laugh.

'What?'

'Look, he won't admit it of course, but I think you being Prefect now were the best thing that could happen to him, because- '

'I don't want to talk about Potter' Lily said, more sharply than was he wont. Severus smirked. The subject of Potter seemed to still be a sore point between them. 'And this is about _you,_ not me, Remus.'

There was silence and Severus tried to make out their dark figures in the narrow passageway. They were standing close to each other at the end of the passageway near the Nun's portrait, but neither of them had their wand lighted, and he did not want to move any closer lest he give away his position.

'I will wait until the end of the term, then I'll tell McGonagall I'm resigning so they'll have enough time to choose someone else over summer. No - listen to me!' he said as Lily tried to interrupt.

'I've made up my mind. Look, Lily I cannot forget what happened on Ben Cόrhveinn. What if we'd been trapped there another day. Or rather, another _night_?'

_Trapped on Ben Cόrhveinn! With Lupin? What the bloody hell was Lupin saying? _Severus' breath hitched and he leaned closer, his heart starting to beat faster.

'But we _weren't,_ Remus! We just weren't expecting to actually meet that crazy old wizard, that's all. Anyway, I think he's quite harmless really, just a bit touched from living alone all the time.'

'He almost had you killed. Or worse – because of _me!'_

_Did Lupin mean what he thought he meant?_

'It's okay, Remus. I'll be more careful next time-'

'_Next time_? Lily – has Mendrick's insanity infected you? You can't be thinking of going there again!'

Severus saw Lily shift uncomfortably. For once he agreed with Lupin. What hare-brained scheme was Lily up to on one of the most hostile of the mountains that surrounded Hogsmeade? She was always fond of getting herself into unnecessary trouble – she called them 'adventures' - and who the hell was 'Mendrick'?

'Look Remus, I know it's a bit weird, but that crazy old wizard said some things that really made me wonder…'

'You mean about how through you the world will be saved from an infinite war? Those were the ravings of a madman!'

'He knew about the Spirit of the Forest'

'The what?'

'The deer. And he knew about…' she paused, for obviously Lupin didn't know about the deer. Her voice was almost pleading 'What if it's true? What if I can _do_ something?'

'But – but you don't even believe in Divination. You gave up that subject in third year!'

'Well, yes, but even in those few lessons some weird things happened that Professor Magus couldn't or wouldn't explain. I – I just don't know, Remus, sometimes being a Muggleborn and a relatively new arrival to the world of magic, you tend to go from one extreme to the other: from disbelieving in everything unfamiliar, to not knowing where to draw the line between magical reality and fairy tales, and believing in everything: especially if it means I could do something to stop this senseless war….'

'I want to stop this war too, Lily, but climbing up Ben Cόrhveinn to talk to a maniacal wizard just isn't sensible.'

'I can take care of myself.'

Severus could not see her face in the dark, but he could imagine her expression. It was very familiar: chin jutting defiantly and eyes narrowed. Lily Evans could be very stubborn, with a typical Gryffindor rashness and disregard for personal safety, especially if she got the idea that it would save somebody or something. When Lily got like this he knew it was useless trying to dissuade her. Remus Lupin had no hope of changing her mind.

The Gryffindor Prefect seemed to know he was beaten too.

'When are you going?' he asked, resignedly.

'If the weather's fine, weekend after next. It's not a Hogsmeade weekend so I won't have extra duties and there won't be students in the village. Don't worry - I'll be safe. I'm getting good at Apparition now.'

'I'm coming with you,' Lupin declared flatly.

'No, listen. It's bad enough you're the second Gryffindor Prefect top resign within one year, you can't - !'

'Lily, you can't go alone! What if something happens to you up there? Will you be the _third _Gryffindor Prefect to disappear? Besides, I've run around in the Forbidden Forest and beyond more than you care to know. I – I know where we can apparate to if – if we get into a tight spot again.'

There was a pause. Clearly Lily was undecided. But Remus Lupin's next words made his blood run cold.

'And you've got no excuse to go without me, Lily: weekend after next there's no full moon, so I'll be fine.'

At that moment there was a sound of chattering voices and a group of Gryffindor seventh- year girls passed by the entrance to the passageway, on their way to their common-room. One of them noticed the two Prefects standing there.

'It's only a few minutes past curfew, right?' the girl remarked, mistaking their presence there.

'C'mon, Remus, let's go in.' Lily said in a low voice and the two Gryffindors followed the chattering girls as they made their way towards Gryffindor tower.

Silence fell again and Severus was suddenly aware that his heart was thudding painfully against his breast as he was left staring at the end of the corridor where they had just been. She knew. She _knew! A_nd yet she was still climbing a dangerous mountain to meet a crazy old wizard in the company of a werewolf. And she was okay with it! He felt stunned.

After Lupin had almost ripped him apart Dumbledore had forced him - _blackmailed _him was a better word - to keep the werewolf's secret. So he couldn't tell Lily what happened, but he had told her to observe the cycle of Lupin's disappearances, told her he _suspected_. She hadn't believed him then, but he had always imagined that if she discovered Lupin's real sickness she'd see the complete lunacy of harbouring a werewolf in a place where all of Britain vulnerable wizarding children were housed. How could she condone such a thing? And how could she even think of going up that mountain with a werewolf, even though not transformed? He went over their conversation in his mind: something had happened up that mountain, Lily had been in danger from both that mad old wizard and the werewolf.

And she intended to go up there again.

But how the hell was he going to stop her? Even assuming they were still on speaking terms, she was determined to go, anyway. And even if he managed to follow her out of Hogwarts castle, she had mentioned apparating to wherever his mad old wizard lived. He didn't feel like scouring that vast mountain peak looking for them: they'd be impossible to find, unless...

A thought suddenly struck him and his hand went automatically around his wrist watch. He couldn't see it, for he was still under a Disillusionment Charm, but its smooth face and the knobbly dials around it were warmly comforting. His wristwatch had a Protean Charm on it cast by Lily herself. It was linked to Lily's watch and if she was still wearing it...

It would be worth a try. The Protean charm linked those two watches and he knew a spell, similar to the Four-Point Charm, that could give the location of the wearer. If he managed to use that spell on Lily's watch the two would give the mutual location of the other, even after Apparition.

He hurried along the dark corridors, a transparent shadow flitting silently past the snoozing portraits. First Saturday in May: that hardly left him more than two weeks to work in, but he had a fairly good idea of what he must do now.

Week after next he would be on Ben Cόrhveinn himself.

**A/n: due to summer upheavals, new projects and rl, I may be a bit later than usual with my next Chapter. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I hope you like where this is going!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: The Oracle.**

It would soon be the first day of May, but the unpredictable Scottish skies above the distant mountains were an ominous grey. Severus tore his eyes away from the window in the fourth-floor corridor, glanced at his wrist watch and cursed. The intricate dials and symbols were whirling around madly. Telling him not only the time, but the Lunar phase (only a few days short of the full moon); the planets motion across the constellations; and, more importantly, where Lily was apparating to.

It had been a tricky charm to perform – he wasn't that good at Charms, but he had persevered, and, in the end, he had succeeded. Or rather, he hoped he had, for he hadn't actually tried it out yet. However, Lily had connected his wrist watch and hers with a Protean Charm, over a year ago, when things were different between them, and that held the key to finding Lily.

He had tweaked the Charm to enable him to apparate to wherever Lily had gone, but there were several drawbacks: it would only be effective for an hour after she had dissapparated, and she'd had a head start. He knew she'd planned to go somewhere on Ben Cόrhveinn this weekend, and he had hung around one of the secret passages out of Hogwarts, hoping to see her leaving, but she must have slipped out some other way.

No-one could, of course, apparate or disapparate out of Hogwarts. It had to be done from beyond the Gates.

Hurriedly whispering the incantation that opened the mirror, he ran at breakneck speed down the secret passage behind it. It was already late afternoon, and the one-hour window within which his Charm would work, was running out fast.

His breath came raggedly, echoing loudly in the never-ending passageway that led to Hogsmeade as he ran past the complex symbols and drawings that decorated the secret passage. His erratically-jumping wandlight ignited each intricate carving until it shone brightly, showing the way ahead, just as it was designed to do over a thousand years ago by Rowena Ravenclaw herself.

Finally, he saw the dusty old trapdoor up ahead that led to what once was Madeira's old house. Since her murder and that of Karkaroff, it had been boarded up once more and left to the mice and rats – no-one seemed to want to live there. After all, there had been rumours of foul happenings there even before Madeira's time, and probably most people thought the place was cursed.

That suited Severus just fine, of course. Even the Marauders, who knew of the secret passageway, avoided it now. Not through any superstitious fear – Potter's arrogance placed him above such things – but Severus suspected that they knew other routes out of Hogwarts They certainly knew about the tunnel under the Whomping Willow…

Black had tricked him into going down there last year, to meet a fate that was worse than death, so even though today the moon was several days short of full, he was loath to ever use that tunnel again.

Pushing the trapdoor open, he climbed up. His panting breath sounded far too loud in the dank, dusty room above. It used to be a bookshop once, and the musty smell of some remaining worm-eaten volumes impregnated the still air, but it was just like he remembered when he used to come for Legilimency lessons with Madeira

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he hastily cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself. If the other Charm worked and he apparated to where Lily had gone, he didn't want to give himself away too easily.

And if the Charm _didn't_ work… he could apparate to Ben Cόrhveinn of course, but it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack on that huge mountain… assuming that he didn't end up splinched into a million pieces by the experimental Charm…

A voice at the back of his head was telling him that he was a pathetic fool for putting himself at risk for a girl who preferred the company of a werewolf, and was on a foolhardy quest to seek a lunatic wizard on top of the highest mountain in the region. _And what the hell for?_ the voice persisted, _at best, she will ignore you and pretend you don't exist in her misguided attempt to forget you… _

Scowling stubbornly, he glanced at his wrist watch: only fifteen minutes remaining. Taking a deep breath, he whirled round, focussed on Lily, and felt the enveloping darkness squeeze the remaining breath out of his body.

It was even worse than the usual sensation of Apparition: instead of being pushed and squeezed on all sides like a human implosion, his body was pulled simultaneously out in different directions, his lungs screaming for air. Finally, with a sickening jolt, he felt all his various body parts coalesce into one and solid ground was beneath his feet again. Disoriented, he tried to draw in a lungful of air before he blacked out, but a vicious breeze whipped his breath away, slapping him into cold consciousness at the same time.

After the darkness of the tunnel, he was half-blinded by the light of a setting sun that had emerged briefly from behind the clouds. Blinking, he tried to focus on what was around him. There were stones everywhere: large, grey, lichen-covered boulders standing on end. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw in the distance above him the ragged, bare peak of Ben Cόrhveinn, much larger and imposing this close.

But where was Lily? The Charm had worked, though he wouldn't go through all _that_ again in a hurry! He moved between the large boulders – being under a Disillusionment Charm, his body took on the appearance of the grey, standing stones around him.

Standing stones…

There was something unusual, yet familiar, about them.

He climbed a bit higher and surveyed them carefully. It took a few seconds to notice the way the stones stood in relation to one another. An involuntary shiver of excitement passed through him – the thrill of discovery. These were _Menhirs_! He'd delved often enough in both dark and ancient magic to recognise the pattern in stone. Not even a pattern really: many would think it just rock erosion or fall-out from the bare peak above, but he knew better. They had been placed just so: a hair's breath away from geometric alignment, so that one had to look very carefully to see the logic in the apparent randomness. This place reeked of ancient magic - magic so old and forgotten that even the untouchables from the Department of mysteries were rumoured to know nothing about it!

'Mendrick? Mendrick!'

The shout came from the distant peak and Severus would recognise that voice anywhere.

He glanced up and saw two black-cloaked figures at the mouth of a dark cave shaped like the wing of a bird. He recognised Lily by the glint of red hair on the dark cloak. The other was probably Lupin. Both clutched their wands tightly as they faced the cave.

Readying his own, he climbed between the stones towards them, his previous chagrin with Lily and her foolhardiness now tempered by a curiosity of his own. Severus could never resist the allure of ancient magical knowledge, and this place was steeped in it. And it was so close to Hogwarts: how could it be that no-one had investigated this place accept for this Mendrick?

Then again: Hogwarts itself had many secrets that none had discovered in spite of the hundreds of thousands of brilliant witches and wizards that had roamed its rooms and halls…

He froze suddenly as a bizarre old wizard appeared at the mouth of the cave. From what he could see at this distance, Mendrick was dressed in rags or skins, and had long wild hair, coarse and white, whipping about his face in the stiff breeze. The last of sun's rays disappeared behind the gathering clouds and Mendrick pointed his wand (- if it was a wand. It looked only like a gnarled twig) – straight at Lupin's chest.

'What're you doing here again?' Mendrick shouted savagely, 'I don't want you here, werewolf!'

Perhaps this Mendrick wasn't so crazy, after all, Severus thought grimly. At least he can recognise a bad penny when he sees one. He moved forward, his wand at the ready.

'He's with me,' he heard Lily say, 'And if he leaves, I will too!'

What on earth was Lily playing at? But Mendrick had stopped, his wand still hovering indecisively at Lupin.

'_You_ came to seek me out,' the old wizard said, stating the obvious, and completely unconcerned about the two wands pointing at him. Further down, Severus' camouflaged arm was trained on him too. If he tried to hurt Lily…

'I came because you wanted me to,' Lily's voice floated down to Severus 'You said something about saving the world from a never-ending war…'

'Oh, Aye! Yes, It's vitally important that you _do_ know!' Mendrick voice suddenly turned excited, urgent. 'I'll show you. Come! He stays out there, though!' he added, pointing with distaste at Lupin.

'C'mon, Lily! Let's get out of here,' Lupin scowled. 'I told you this is sheer madness!'

'Remus, last time he said something…' she turned to look at the old wizard who was already half-turned to the mouth of the cave 'Look, Mendrick …I'll come with you if allow my friend in and give us your wand. I'm sorry, but after last time, I can't trust you.'

Mendrick didn't move, so with an exasperated sigh, Lily turned round to go, but Mendrick ran after her:

'No! Stop! Look – I'll leave my wand here.' he jammed the strange twisted wand he was holding in a crack in the stone at the cave's mouth. Immediately, dark root-like tendrils emerged from the bare stone itself and twisted firmly round the wand, merging with it. 'But he –' Mendrick continued firmly, pointing at Lupin 'remains here, in the Raven's cave!'

Lupin started to protest, but Lily overrode his arguments.

'I'll be ok, Remus. He's disarmed and I have my wand and you have yours.'

' You can't apparate in or out of this mountain and the cave will keep you to your word, werewolf!' Mendrick growled, belligerently.

Severus had no doubt it would. He didn't need the evidence of that strange wand that now looked like a dry, dead tree to believe him. The last time he saw that kind of magic was when he had seen Madeira's memory of his Great-Grandfather's suicide. This Mendrick knew far more than what his bizarre appearance might lead one to think, and this mountain... this mountain, the highest in this part of Scotland, had seen its fair share of ancient magic, Severus was sure of that as he crept closer to the giant wing-like cave mouth the other three had disappeared into.

It was a vast cavern. Lily's pale wandlight shone on glistening ancient walls that were not carved by natural erosion of wind or water, but by human hand or magic. The domed ceiling rose in perfect concentric carved circles, each smaller than the next, the top ones of which were lost in darkness. There were other passageways and small niches carved from the bare, grey rock leading off from the main cavern, but Severus had no time to examine them as the erratic trembling of Lily's wand was the only source of light, and they had already moved on ahead. The walls were so ancient that in some areas, where moisture seeped in from above, stalactites were forming on the artificial smoothness of the walls from the salts percolated through the vast mass of the mountain peak above. Otherwise, there was a sort of rough elegance in the clean, straight and curved lines of their shape.

As Severus followed the three further inside the huge chamber, the shape of a flat round 'table' came into view. It was carved out of the bedrock in the middle of the cave, about three feet high and a dozen feet in diameter, its surface worn shiny-smooth by ancient and long-forgotten use. It reminded Severus of the platform mound or flat low pedestal in the room behind the Ephemeral door back at Hogwarts where he had found Riddle's strange diary in place of his Great-Grandfather's book. That time, he had likened it to a sacrificial alter.

He saw Lily, Mendrick and the werewolf skirt this structure and hurry on to the back of the cavern where a door had been carved in solid straight lines to resemble a dolmen structure. Reaching this, Mendrick whirled round.

'This is where you get off, werewolf!' his snarl echoed round the chamber, the disdain amplified by the reverberations .

Lupin tried once again to protest but Lily insisted, silently indicating that Mendrick should lead the way. The white-haired old wizard passed through the dolmen door and down some steps with Lily's wand was pointing steadily at his back.

Severus could tell she was becoming increasingly apprehensive.

He couldn't blame her. This place reeked of old magic – the very fabric of the ancient stonework were impregnated with it. Severus knew that the most ancient of all magic known to wizard kind – so old that there were no written records – was the most dangerous of all, for no-one knew how it worked or how to control it. Barring, perhaps, the untouchables, most modern-day witches and wizards did not know it existed. But Severus had found enough clues and signs in old forgotten books written in similarly old and forgotten languages, to have no doubt that such magic did – or had once existed.

There was one book that may have held some of the secrets of the ancient wizards: it was written by his great-grandfather Severus Prince, but he had never seen it, for Dumbledore had it locked away in his office. One other wizard, apart from his Great-grandfather, who might have known something about this old magic, was Tom Riddle. He had seen some of that magic at work himself in the memories of Madeira's pensieve. At the Taol Maen Standing Stones, Riddle had dabbled in ancient dark magic, striving both for immortality and to usurp his Great Grandfather's position as leader of the Knights of the Walpurgis. But the ancient magic was dangerous: it destroyed Riddle – no-one ever heard from the brilliant young wizard ever again; his Great Grandfather committed suicide; his daughter Yseult and an old tramp were murdered; and Madeira carried the scars of that night on her face and soul for the rest of her life.

The nightmares from what he had witnessed in that pensieve still haunted him. And this place reminded him forcefully of those dark memories.

Lily passed through the dolmen door and her wandlight became a narrow beam that shone back through the door. It seemed like she was entering a trap, somehow. Lupin lit his own wand as he peered inside the stone door and then around him, as though to take his bearings. Severus hastily backed into one of the niches, for a Disillusionment Charm did not make you invisible. He had to bend low for the niche was small. Underfoot was a thick layer of grey dust, like ash, interspersed with small stones or ... there was a slight crunching sound from under his foot... or bone fragments!

_Damn. _The sound, slight though it had been, had alerted Lupin, who was looking around warily, his face pale beneath his thick brown hair.

This was ridiculous.

Either he would be discovered by Lupin, or else the idiot half-breed would ignore Mendrick's warning and try and follow Lily. The cave would stop him somehow – it was half- sentient with old magic, and probably cursed.

And he, Severus was wasting precious time while Lily was being led to Merlin-knew-where by that loony old fool!

Taking careful aim he muttered a Stunning spell. There was a flash of light and Lupin fell with a moan on his side, unconscious.

'_Incarcerous!_' he continued conjuring up thick coil of rope to bind the werewolf.

Bending down, he retrieved Lupin's wand from where it had fallen from his nerveless hand and quickly passed through the Dolmen door.

He had half-expected to be repelled or cursed, but he passed through unimpeded. Beyond, was a large tunnel barely illuminated by Lily's fading wandlight. Like the larger chamber, the walls were hewn from solid rock and were smoothly carved. He could the muffled voices of Lily and the old wizard in the distance. Lily did not sound scared or apprehensive – she actually sounded curious.

He hurried on to catch up with them, for he, too, in spite of his misgivings, was burning with curiosity to see what Mendrick had uncovered here.

Unless of course, the old wizard had an evil, hidden agenda. In that case, he stood more of a chance of rescuing her than Lupin did.

'...sorted in Ravenclaw,' Mendrick was saying, his voice hushed yet excited, 'so was my sister. I was a brilliant student – best in my house, and Ravenclaws are, as you know, pretty smart students.' His voice growing progressively more excited and breathless, bouncing in eager echoes off the ancient walls.

'I was especially fascinated by the secrets hidden within Hogwarts old halls,' Mendrick continued 'especially Rowena Ravenclaws' secrets – she was a witch I admired, not only because she was our house founder, but because she possessed all the qualities I admired: intelligence, inventiveness, and thirst for knowledge for knowledge's sake... I discovered a passageway, Lily...' his voice dropped to a breathless whisper '…a secret passage way that led out of Hogwarts. It was carved and decorated by Rowena Ravenclaw herself: there were some of her life's' works in that passage –'

'The one behind the fourth-floor corridor mirror?'

'You know of that passage?' Mendrick sounded incredulous, 'I thought I was the only one.'

'I was shown where it was.'

'Well, in my time at Hogwarts I think I was the only one to know about it: I had found clues and read the signs in Rowena Ravenclaws' own writings. I may not have been the only student to discover it: there were signs that other students, perhaps years before me, had used it, but I certainly was the only one who bothered to _look_ at the writings on the walls of the secret passage –'

'You mean all those signs and symbols that light up when wandlight falls on them?'

'That's right,' the old wizard nodded eagerly, his strange silvery eyes glinting in the wandlight.

'What about them?'

Severus could tell Lily's curiosity was aroused. And so was his; he had never managed to decipher anything but the simplest of those emblems. Some represented older versions of astronomy charts; some were universal symbols of magical numbers and objects, but most others he could never figure out.

'It's a code. Only a Ravenclaw would know for the clue to it lies in the pedestal of the statue…'Mendrick explained.

'What Statue?'

'The one in the common-room. Rowena Ravenclaw's statue –'

'I've never been in the Ravenclaw common-room. I'm Gryffindor.'

'Oh, right, right, I keep forgetting. I'm getting old …' his worn old voice faded into silence.

'What about the writings on the walls of the secret passage?' Lily persisted.

'There's everything there – Rowena Ravenclaw's life works, her _secret_ works…' Mendrick's voice turned back to its previous breathless enthusiasm, 'Not what's in Hogwarts' library: everybody knows about _those_ – she was a brilliant witch, her spells and books are still in use today…'

'So what did she write or – or sculpt on the wall? What do those symbols mean?'

'Oh – even I did not manage to decipher all of them! But there was a clue – a numerical key carved on the pedestal of Rowena's statue. It was two years after I had discovered the secret passage that I connected that with what was engraved on the walls of Rowena Ravenclaw's secret passage. And it took me a whole other year to break the code, but finally I did it, and I could read what the strange writing and symbols were…'

'And -?' Lily's voice was breathless with an eagerness she could not disguise, and not only because they had been jogging along the dark passageways for the last half-hour.

Mendrick stopped suddenly and Lily almost ran into him. Severus stopped too. If they hadn't been so engrossed in their conversation they might have heard the faint rustling of his cloak as he came too close for comfort.

Mendrick's strange orb-like eyes gleamed fanatically.

'Ancient Magic, Lily. As old as this mountain perhaps. Even in Rowena Ravenclaw's time it was considered beyond old, and beyond the pale of the written word. _Earth_ Magic – powerful and uncontrollable, at least by our standards'

'But what does all this have to do with a modern wizarding war? How can I help?'

Mendrick was silent for a moment, then:

'The ancient ones worshipped the earth and drew their power, their magic, from deep within that source. It was a time when muggles and magic people alike were sparse upon the face of the earth – survival and procreation were of utmost importance to both alike, or their race – the human race - could be easily snuffed out. Muggles, too,worshipped the earth then, engaging in fertility rites and customs to secure the continuity of their people. Some of the ancient ones however, those imbued with the force of magic, tapped the earth itself for the raw magical power they discovered beneath its surface at specific points. Power only they have been known to harvest.'

'One of those points they used for their magic is here, in this mountain peak, and Rowena Ravenclaw was the one to discover it. She pieced together fragments of information from many old sources and knew that old magic was to be found high up on Ben Cόrhveinn'

'What kind of magic did she discover here? Was it written on the wall of the secret passage?'

'Some of it. Much of what is written there I did not have time to decipher, but it was enough to send me on an expedition to Ben Cόrhveinn, armed with the knowledge from the secret tunnel, as soon as I graduated and left Hogwarts. I discovered the cavern and how to unseal it, and then, what was in side, I discovered by myself, slowly, over many decades.'

'So what exactly did you find here, then?' Lily asked the question Severus had been eagerly awaiting the answer to.

They had resumed their walk down the passage way. Severus noticed the walls were becoming narrower and less refined. He wondered if he could find his way back alone, for throughout their passage, numerous other passageways had branched off, as well as doorways to dark chambers and niches or catacombs like the one with the bone fragments earlier.

'The ancient ones, I believe, used this place to move back and forth in time and space. Perhaps they planned their survival that way. I'm not sure how they did it – that knowledge is lost, or else it is one of the writing I never got down to deciphering back in Ravenclaws secret passage, however, I _do_ know that the old magic is there here, waiting to be used – and I have found out a few of its uses myself'

'What uses?'

'Patience, my dear, we are soon there, and you will see... Yes, yes, the time has come...' the rest was lost in incomprehensible mumbling as he moved forwards.

It was only minutes later that they came upon it: a rough-hewn entrance, once again mimicking two standing stones with a third resting on top, all carved out of the hard grey rock, but roughly this time. It was also much smaller than the first one they had gone through.

'Here we are,' Mendrick's voice was a hushed whisper, excited yet with a note of apprehension, as if someone or something beyond the small dark opening could hear them.

Severus clutched his wand tighter, instincts long-honed to expect the worst were screaming at him to just _get out_.

He was surprised at the intensity of his own apprehension, but Lily, though clearly unwilling to pass through that small opening, did not look as scared as he was feeling.

Perhaps it was because he had some idea about the old earth-magic Mendrick was talking about. It was probably even older than the dark magic he had seen at the Taol Maen Standing Stones in Madeira's memory, perhaps even older what was compiled in his Great Grandfathers' book: _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_. Even in the oldest of magical tomes he had read - rare books in the old languages he had learnt under Madeira's tuition - Earth Magic was spoken of as a mysterious but dangerous force and none – not even the most famous of Dark wizards in written history, could harness the raw power rooted deep within the earth, or even begin to understand it.

It wasn't even _Dark_ magic – just magic in its purest and most elemental form.

If what Mendrick said was true, and those early wizards or witches had managed to use or control its powers here on this mountain, then Mendrick's discoveries were truly amazing. How did this barmy old codger keep such a secret under wraps? More important still, what magic was it that he had unleashed, and could he really control it, or was he leading Lily into a trap?

Inching closer, Severus kept his wand trained on Mendrick as the latter bent down almost double to pass through the small opening into the darkness beyond. Lily hesitated a second and then crouched down to pass through the door, too.

Severus hurried forward towards the narrow beam of wandlight now emanating from the small opening. He didn't know what Lily would do if she discovered he had followed her here. She would definitely refuse to budge, even if he begged her to: not when this Mendrick had placed such a lure before her: _save the world from a never-ending war_ he had said. Lily, an ultimate Gryffindorian, could never resist such that stuff. He had long known that Lily's sympathies, despite all his arguments, were not on the Dark Lord's side, but still, what else had Mendrick said that made her risk this? Not that Lily knew anything about Earth-Magic ...

He could hear the mumble of their voices inside, so he knew she was okay, but this place was ... ominous. It was ominous in a way that he had never encountered before. And Severus had delved enough in the dark arts, had seen nightmarish memories in Madeira's pensieve and had been in enough sinister places, both in Hogwarts and beyond, to know what 'ominous' felt like.

His skin was crawling with an unspoken dread, for it seemed as though the very walls were sentient and they did not want him there. He crouched down silently by the rough-hewn entrance, his wand in his right hand and his left arm holding onto the cold, smooth surface of the rock, taking on the colour and texture of stone. At least his Disillusionment Charm still held fast, and only a slight distortion when he moved, denoted his presence. Up close, where his hand was placed, he noticed the stone doorjambs were smoothened as though by long use: people pulling themselves into whatever room lay beyond. Beneath his hand he also noticed a strange, almost imperceptible vibration – was it the hum of dormant earth magic?

His heart racing faster, he pulled himself further into the narrow entrance and peered in.

It was a small chamber roughly spherical in shape, carved out of the same hard granite. There were no niches or passageways or carved doors anywhere: just simply a small, round, chamber with bare walls. The only thing that relieved the bareness was a small hole, the size of a Quaffle, in the wall opposite.

He almost felt disappointed. He had expected – well he hadn't known _what_ to expect, but certainly not a small, dead-end room. Biting off a sigh of exasperation at the anti-climax, he crept a bit forward to hear what Mendrick and Lily were talking about.

'... she was sure that she had discovered magic's beginnings. She used this cave, the diadem protected her ...' Mendrick was saying still speaking in a whisper.

'Diadem? Protect her from what?'

'Rowena Ravenclaw's legendary diadem. It protected her from the draining influence of the oracle.'

'You mean that hole over there?'

'It's not a _hole!_' Mendrick said indignantly, his large, silvery eyes glinting fanatically, 'It is one of the many amazing discoveries I made in this place! It's an _Oracle_!'

'You mean you ask it questions and it gives you the answers? So all I have to do is ask it how to stop the war... sounds easy enough.'

'It does not respond to a witch's voice... any _woman'_s voice'

'Then either it's a chauvinistic pig of an Oracle, or else it's something to do with acoustics.'

Severus smirked as he heard the impatient indignation in Lily's voice.

'Acoo – what?'

'Never mind. Just _you _shout the question then. I'll just stay here and listen to the answer.'

Severus could tell that Lily was getting angry. Probably she was thinking that he was just old wizard who'd gone round the bend through living alone and hearing his own voice's weird echoes.

And Severus would have thought so too, were it not for that uneasy pulsing beneath his hand, the feeling that the ancient rock was _alive_, somehow.

'You do not believe me, do you?' Mendrick asked after a pause.

Severus was close enough to see that the old wizard looked rather sick and weary beneath the fanatical expression he wore.

'I – ' Lily sighed heavily, 'Look, I'll listen to what you – I mean - the oracle has to say, ok, but I'm not telling you I'll believe it, or act upon it. Does anyone else know about this place?'

'Well, apart from Rowena Ravenclaw, I think Merlin himself found out about it. Probably from Ravenclaw herself, I don't know. She seems to suggest that in her writings. Merlin made unscrupulous use of it, - he was a Slytherin, after all, and uncannily resistant to the oracle's draining influence – and part of his wisdom and greatness came from what this cave taught him, I'm guessing. I'm not sure what happened then, but it must have sealed itself against him, and any further intrusions, until I discovered how to unlock it from the writing in Rowena's secret passageway. '

'That's quite an amazing story! But that's the second time you've mentioned this 'draining influence', and you don't look too well yourself –'

'I'm fine! I know what you're thinking! You think I'm mad, don't you? Like those ignorant fools from the Ministry who snapped my wand and wanted to cart me off to St Mungo's when I tried to tell them about the oracle and show them...' he paused, his nostrils flaring in fury at the memory 'I was under its influence then, but none recognised it's truths. I was Cassandra's last student: I can _see_...'

Lily did not reply for a second, for Mendrick had worked himself up into a rage at the memory of past wrongs.

'Well, had they heeded my words the wizarding world might not be in such a mess. As it is, I'm never going to have anything to do with those Ministry fools again, and if they dare come up here ...' he left the threat hanging menacingly.

'Does the oracle make you weak, or something?' Lily was digging for clues.

'Just a fevered brain, that's all, and some weakness, but it doesn't last long,' Mendrick replied, dismissively.

Lily looked at him doubtfully. 'A fevered brain, huh? Well, you've certainly uncovered an interesting place.'

'One day I'll tell you about the day I found it, but right now, we should focus on the task at hand: I see that mere words will not persuade you. You have to hear for yourself –'

'Before you continue,' Lily interrupted, 'Last time, you mentioned the Spirit of the Forest. How did you –?'

'Yes, yes, that too. It will explain everything! The_ Oracle_ will! Just place yourself in front of it and ask it what you need to know'

'I thought you said the oracle did not respond to a witch's voice.'

'But you are a special, Lily. As was Rowena Ravenclaw. It will answer _you_. I've seen it'

'So it foretells the future? I thought you said it will show me a way how to stop the war...'

Mendrick came up close. Lily instinctively put up her wand, but Mendrick's hand closed gently over her wand hand.

'Look up, Lily' he moved her wand arm upwards, so that her wandlight illuminated the ceiling of the small room above them.

She gasped.

Above their heads was an intricate pattern of spirals and curves interlacing in some places, and dividing continuously like roots in another. It was amazingly intricate, and, in the dark, neither Severus had noticed the intriguing drawing on the stone. It was all done in a dark, red colour. Red ochre, Severus thought, not blood. Blood would degrade after such a long time. Yet it was just that shade darker, had a slightly more solid, organic look to it that was different from any pigment he had seen before.

'The Tree of Life,' Mendrick was saying. 'It was drawn by the ancients to symbolise the beginnings of magic as it was drawn from the earth like roots of a tree draw life-giving water from the soil. Magic that is concentrated in this room and connects the past, the present and the future of this one planet to their many divergent paths…'

'I have seen these paths, Lily, and within one of them, lies what you seek.'

'An end to the war?'

'An infinite war. Only in recent years has the Oracle spoken of the possibility that it might be ended. You have been touched by the Spirit of the Forest, I can only trust _you_ to know the way how.'

'So why don't you just tell me?' Lily looked with distaste at the small black hole at the far end of the wall.

Darker grime marks around it indicated where one would put ones hands before leaning into the hole and shouting a question... The grime marks were recent – Mendrick's maybe, but the worn smoothness of the rock beneath was caused by the thousands upon thousands of long-dead hands that were placed there in exactly the same way and for exactly the same reason.

'You will have to see and hear it yourself. You will understand why. What the Oracle foretells will inevitably come true only insomuch as the world is unaware of its presence.'

'What?'

'Come now, it is time.' Mendrick stepped back and indicated the dark Oracle.

Nervously, Lily took a step closer. Clearly she was torn between believing and not believing Mendrick. As for Severus, he didn't know up to what point the conversation was just the incoherent ramblings of a madman, and where his words were rooted in fact. Some of it, the faintly menacing vibration beneath his hand reminded him, was true.

His heart was thumping so loudly in his chest that he feared the ancient walls could feel it, just as he did their strange hum. Something was going to happen. He clutched his wand in a sweaty palm, training it directly on Mendrick.

Should he just erupt into the room now, stun Mendrick, and prevent Lily from going anywhere near that Oracle thing?

But Lily already had her palms on the grimy curve of the hole.

'Erm...' she seemed to not know what to say,

'No, no. You've got to speak decisively, like this – AAAH!' Mendrick shouted a note into the hole and his voice was picked up and reverberated endlessly around the room. It was a strange, acoustic effect caused by the timbre of a man's voice and the roundness of the chamber. Severus could imagine primitive people being in awe of the eerie noise: it sounded like a voice from beyond, but it was nothing more than an acoustic effect, as Lily had guessed.

He breathed a mental sigh of relief, and even Lily seemed relieved for she actually gave a small giggle, and approached the hole again, more as though to humour Mendrick than anything else.

Placing her hands on the opening, she leaned towards the hole and said:

'Is there a way of stopping this war?'

She hadn't actually whispered, but neither had she spoken as loudly as Mendrick recommended. Her higher-pitched voice did not reverberate like Mendrick's had done. In fact, it fell flat and dull into the hole, as though sucked right into it, and not one single echo was raised.

Severus was already half-thinking of making his way out and Lily had turned with a faintly disappointed, but placating, look towards Mendrick, when it happened:

Barely audible at first, drowned out by his own, still-rapid heartbeat: a sibilant whisper than came from all directions, then growing stronger, so that he could make out the words : Lily's question repeated a hundred times in a hundred voices: _different _voices endlessly repeating the question, the sound getting louder and louder and the words changing …changing to a strange incomprehensible tongue, - wave upon wave of endlessly reverberating words that echoed around them, as if the owners of the ancient voices were calling through the very fabric of the walls themselves. It was a language Severus did not recognise, even though he had been well-versed in most of the known dead languages…

'What's happening?' Lily shouted in alarm as she turned round in a tight circle, searching for a source of the voices, her wand held at the ready.

But unless he was mistaken, the sound of the voices was now concentrating around the Oracle. He felt the hair at the nape of his neck rise. There was something dangerous here in a way that he could not fathom.

But Mendrick seemed excited, not alarmed.

'Hush! It will speak – it will speak soo- Aaaaah!'

Incandescent blue-white roots of what looked like lightening burst from each of the branches of the tree-like drawing on the ceiling and hit Mendrick, who yelled, his body shaking at the powerful discharge. Lily shrieked and stepped backwards as the forked tongues of energy radiating from the ceiling and into Mendrick's body, illuminating the chamber in blinding white light.

Severus jumped in to the chamber, expecting the old wizard to slump in a frazzled, burnt mess to the ground, but a split second later, Mendrick was dragged backward towards the Oracle, seemingly by those brilliant fingers of white light, until the back of his head was positioned at its level. Then it, too, began to glow - a beam of the same incandescent light issued from the Oracle until Mendrick's head, inexorably pulled backwards, extinguished it by contact.

Like a stopper in a bottle, Severus thought as he watched, wide-eyed, the ridiculous yet surreal situation unfold before his eyes. Lily was screaming Mendrick's name, but a second later it was all over: the forked-light fingers vanished, the voices, which had risen, in crescendo, to a scream issuing from the Oracle's mouth, fell into a resounding silence, so that only Lily's ragged breathing and the thumping of his own heart could be heard.

Obviously, Lily hadn't noticed him leaping into the room, for both their eyes had been blinded by the energy discharge they had just witnessed. Now, with only Lily's trembling wandlight remaining, the chamber was dim once more, for the wandlight seemed pale and weak by comparison.

'M- Mendrick?'

Lily's voice was hushed and scared, in the pregnant silence, but Mendrick's eyes were shut, even though he still stood, apparently unarmed by the strange lightening, in an awkward, rigid pose with the back of his head stuck to the oracle and his eyes closed.

If it wasn't so eerie, he would have looked downright ridiculous.

But then Mendrick's eyes opened suddenly, and within them, instead of the strange silvery grey colour of his eyes, was a white glowing light.

Lily let out a gasp and stepped backwards. It looked as though the beam of light from the oracle was somehow shining through the back of Mendrick's head and out through his eyes.

Severus hurried forward, his wand raised, circling on Lily's other side. He did not like this at all and he'd read enough Dark magic books about Possession to recognise the signs. 'Fevered brain' indeed! Was this Mendrick a fool as well as a madman to allow himself to be used this way? And for what? Fortunetelling? That is what he seemed to have promised Lily, but even he hadn't offered a solid guarantee his words would come true…

This was most probably a case of Possession: one of the darkest and most dangerous magic he had ever read about. And one which Madeira's Portrait, her anchor to life even when her body was dead, had once briefly, for a split second, subjected him to. It was horrible. Possession was an art, she had said, that was commonly practised in her native island home. And right at this moment, he wasn't even sure who, or what, was possessing Mendrick.

He had to stop this.

Perhaps it was time to let Lily know he was here.

He didn't know how she'd react to find him at her shoulder: she might even hex him for following her, but she _had _to believe him about this danger now – after all, though she objected to his knowledge on Dark magic, she had to admit that in the past, it had come in useful.

As it would now…

But during his moment of hesitation, Mendrick opened his mouth and started to speak: in a voice with a dull, rough, timbre unlike his own, and it was something Severus had never heard before.

_A/n to the Jet: this will be canon-compliant within interpretative limits. See my profile page._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Ghosts of Ancient Magic.**

Mendrick spoke disjointedly, his mouth twisting and stumbling awkwardly over the words, the brilliant white light glowing from his eyes giving him a mad look. Even his voice was changed: his dry cackle turned into a low, thrumming harshness.

Though he was only a few yards away, and Lily could hear him perfectly, yet the words that issued from his mouth did not appear to tally with the way his lips moved: like a badly-dubbed foreign movie. His white, glowing, eyes were pupil-less, but Lily knew they were trained on her.

"Through Ravenclaw's wisdom and Gryffindor courage shall Slytherins' spawn be destroyed,' his low voice reverberated round the room, 'e'en as a never-ending war the Tree of Life itself endangers; the force that breathes ancient life from the depths below this Northern land will recede back to its beginnings and magic will be no more…'

Mendrick's arm came up suddenly jerkily, and pointed straight at her, so that she jumped back 'Thou hast been touch'd by the Spirit of the Forest's ancient magic. The stag will begat the blood sacrifice that will end the war. The time is nigh when the Stag and the Doe unite. The fruit of thy womb will change all this or not, the choice is thine."

'_What?_' her voice came out as a choked whisper.

'The choice is thine!' Mendrick's lips twisted violently with the strange way of enunciating the words, but the finger still pointing accusingly at Lily had started to tremble.

A trembling that rapidly spread to his entire body.

'Mendrick… _Mendrick_!' she cried in alarm as the trembling turned to shaking, and the old wizards' body started convulsing.

A strangulated cry came from his mouth and his face twisted in pain, foam flecking his lips even as he continued to try to speak, though the harsh guttural words were unintelligible now.

'Mendrick! Snap out of it!' she screamed, horrified, pointing her wand at him, yet at her wits end what spell to use or what would even be any use.

She took a few steps forward and reached out, intending to physically pull the old wizard away from that Oracle hole he was stuck to when, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a movement in the dim recesses of the room to one side, as though the walls themselves were moving.

Before she could react, however, she felt a vice-like grip around her wand-arm and saw that Mendrick's outstretched hand had grabbed her wrist, even as his body's shaking suddenly stilled. That was all the time she had to think however, for next instant, a sharp ice-cold sensation from his hand travelled up her arm and centred in her head, like a shard of ice. Her vision blurred immediately and a gasp of pain escaped her as the pain intensified. She tried to pull her hand free, but couldn't: her hand was fused to Mendrick's as though encased in freezing ice, and all she could see was the eerie glow of the old wizards' eyes: a glow that swallowed her up too, so that the room disappeared in the blinding whiteness.

'Lily!' an anguished and familiar voice called out from somewhere in the white light, but it seemed to come from far away, and her head felt like it was going to explode… faint shapes where stirring in the white light… moving, flowing, figures… they coalesced further … she recognised the faint outline of Hogwarts' hall, its' details fuzzy with the blinding whiteness. There seemed to be a circle of spectators there, blurry white faces she didn't recognise. What were they looking at? Then she saw him: Voldemort: tall and dark, gliding silently within the circle, as though stalking prey, wand held in duelling position and his pale face more deformed than she remembered, though the evil menace of the thin smile on his lips was the same.

_What was happening to her?!_ Moaning, she shook her head, trying to rid herself of the terrifying vision, but the icy pulsating sensation from Mendrick's hand to her own shot more pain down her arm and into her head: the white light searing her mind's eye extinguished the vision of Hogwarts, the spectators and even Voldemort, but before it did, in a last split-second moment of clarity, it highlighted a smaller figure facing Voldemort, the one he was about to duel: thin, with a shock of dark, tousled hair that stood up at the back, a young wizard stood fearlessly and proudly in front of Voldemort, wand at the ready.

It was as if the blinding white light that filled her head had focussed all its energy, for that split second, on that tousle-headed young man, for as he turned slightly to face the circling Voldemort, Lily caught a fleeting glimpse of his profile: a glint of light reflecting on round spectacles, a thin face, dirtied by sweat and battle stains, untidy dark hair flopping over his brow and sticking up at the back.

_James Potter?!_

Before her mind had assimilated what she had seen, the blinding light obscured everything again in a blanketing whiteness and then other figures took their place: blurry, fast-moving figures and places she did not recognise, coming into focus for a split second then gone again: her head seemed about to implode and her eyes were burning. Someone was calling her name but she couldn't answer, she couldn't rid herself of the visions that were unfolding in her mind like a speeded- up film on cine camera. She thought she saw the same room she stood in, strangely-dressed shadowy people lining its blood-stained walls; she thought she saw Hogsmeade, smaller and dirtier than she knew it now; she thought she saw goblins walking openly among strangely-dressed muggles, and dragons where they ought not to have been: a surreal landscape she couldn't make heads or tails of, and, through it all, her staring wide-open eyes ached agonisingly and her head throbbed viciously.

'Lily…_Lily!'_

The familiar voice, though strangely muffled, sounded close to her now, urgently calling her name but her vision had turned into something that made her gasp in fear: Voldemort's face was looking at her from beneath a hooded cloak, only a few feet away. His red eyes bore into hers, as his thin lips twisted cruelly, and, like a rabbit frozen in the glare of headlights she knew she was powerless to do anything. Her heart was beating wildly against her ribcage, yet she couldn't move. Her breath came raggedly, and her legs shook beneath her. Even though the remnants of reason were telling her that this could NOT be real, that this was some sort of nightmarish _vision,_ when Voldemort raised his wand and there was a blinding flash of green light, she screamed.

A scream identically echoed within the world of her vision.

Everything darkened then: Voldemort was gone, as well as the nightmare-filled white light searing her eyeballs, and there was an agonising sensation in her wand arm, the one Mendrick was holdng.

Only he wasn't.

As the round chamber came back into focus she saw Mendrick was slumped on the floor, his body convulsing once more. The pain in her head lifted and she blinked, realising her face was wet with tears, her throat raw, and her wand arm throbbing violently. The incandescent white light from the Oracle had somehow spread to the Tree of Life on the ceiling, so that its' dark red, intricate branches and roots were alight with a white glow, spreading above her head like a swathe of white lace. Below it, strange black flames were trailing hungrily around the small chamber with a menacing hiss, as though chasing and extinguishing the blazing white light which was now reduced to a glow from the Oracle and the tree drawing above.

A gurgling, rattling sound at her feet made her glance down at Mendrick's shaking body. His eyes were closed now, bloody tears staining his wrinkled cheeks a dark red and his foam-flecked lips were still mouthing words she could not make out as he gasped and grovelled on the floor of the chamber.

Her first reaction was repulsion: those terrifying visions had come from Mendrick or through Mendrick… but that instant, the menacing hiss of the black fire grew louder as did the strange whispering voices she'd heard earlier. Unmistakeably angry voices in a strange tongue. And the black fire… she thought she'd seen it once before…

What the hell was happening now? What fresh horror had awakened in this chamber?

The pain in her head was gone, but it had left her weak and light-headed, her right hand was in atrocious pain where Mendrick had grasped her, and she'd dropped her wand… She glanced down, but what she saw made her recoil in horror: the flesh of her wrist was blackened and disfigured with red-raw weals striped across it, the sleeve of her robe burnt away.

Almost sobbing in anguish, she turned round, looking for the door, but the cold fire of the black flames were darkening everything. She had no hope of saving herself, let alone Mendrick without a wand, and the draining weakness of what had happened was making her head swim.

She was fainting and couldn't stop it. She would die here, her mind polluted by horrifying visions she did not understand, her body prey to a sinister magic she shouldn't have dabbled in.

'Help...'

She had meant to shout, perhaps Remus might hear, but the word came out as a childish whimper and she felt herself sinking, the darkness closing in.

However, with the last vestiges of consciousness, even as she fell, she knew she hadn't hit the ground for a pair of arms had wrapped strongly around her, lifting her off her feet.

Then everything went black.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIII

Severus Snape's breath came raggedly as he stumbled down the rock-hewn tunnels: it was adrenaline and sheer willpower that kept him going onwards, for Lily Evans was still unconscious in his arms, but the sibilant whispers of the voices, though fainter away from that cursed Oracle chamber, still followed him, goading him on, in spite of the deadweight of Lily's body.

He'd been stumbling along the labyrinthine tunnels for a full 10 minutes now, and Lily showed no signs of coming round.

He was used to flitting around the dark passageways of Hogwarts' dungeons, so he was fairly sure he could retrace his steps out of this place, but apart from the eerie voices following him from the chamber there were other sounds: deep rumbling vibrations he could feel beneath his feet as though something moved or lived deep beneath the core of the mountain. Whatever it was, was larger than even the fabled dragon that lived in the bowels of Gringotts bank: it was almost as if it were the rumbling of an imminent explosion of a volcano….

He glanced down at Lily's face: it was pale and drawn in the jerky light of the wands he held in his hand, but at least her eyes were closed and dark. Minutes before, they had been glowing eerily white like Mendricks', shocking him into throwing the only spell he knew might break contact between her and the old wizard: Black Fire.

It was a spell he had found in his Great-grandfather's book and had subsequently modified and improved: it was dark magic, for the black flames consumed and denatured the fabric of magic itself: cold flames that would not burn, but extinguish magical life from the inside out, acting as slow or as fast as the castor of the spell desired.

He had last used that spell on James Potter's crowd of jeering friends the day he had humiliated him in front of Lily Evans. He had lost his head that day. More than that, he had lost Lily Evans too.

Yet here she was now, a heavy warmth cradled in his arms and the reason why he was risking his life in the bowels of Ben Cόrhveinn, pursued by an ancient and incontrollable magic.

Yet it was worth it. He clutched her to him tightly, her tear-stained face resting on his shoulder and the meadow-sweet smell of her so agonisingly familiar, that it broke even through the urgent thoughts and plans of escape already whirling through his brain even at that moment.

A grimace of pain passed fleetingly across her face and she moaned softly, bringing her blackened hand up to her face. She was coming round. He hoped she would, and soon, for they'd move faster if she was on her feet again. Her injured wrist was resting on her front now. He looked at it with a painful twist in his stomach.

_He_ had done that. The black flames had severed her connection with that mad old fool, but it had left her hand and wrist disfigured and blackened. That was another reason why he wanted her to regain consciousness: he was the only one who could reverse the effects of that spell and it had to be done soon, or the damage would grow like a cancer.

He cursed himself under his breath, his conscience prickling uneasily. He may not have had to resort to _that_ if he had somehow stopped her sooner. He should've stopped her going in; he should've stopped her going anywhere near that bloody Oracle; or listen to that mad old fool; he should've….

He sighed in frustration. He hadn't realised the danger until Mendrick had seized Lily by her hand, so that whatever was Possessing him passed onto her too, and her beautiful eyes had lost their normal green and started to glow white too.

He had almost lost his head then: he knew he couldn't touch either of them if he wanted to retain his senses, but the anguished expression on Lily's face, and his own helplessness, had the same effect. Thankfully the Black Fire had severed her connection to Mendrick, and had, unexpectedly, fought the Oracle's powers to some extent.

Mendrick, however, had gone beserk.

The old wizard, silvery eyes still aglow with remnants of his Possession and gabbling frenziedly had attacked him savagely as he bent retrieve Lily's wand, for somehow he see him even though he was still under a Disillusionment Charm.

He hit the old wizard hard with a repelling spell and left him grovelling on the floor while he searched for Lily's wand. He found it just in time to catch Lily as she fell in a dead faint. It had been difficult to carry her out of the small opening to the chamber, but the adrenaline high gave him extra strength, and he'd been hurrying down these dark corridors ever since.

If only he'd acted sooner…But it was no use crying over spilt potion…he had to get her away from here now. He was sure it was a case of Possession: ancient magic that few Dark Wizards had practiced, for it endangered the mind of the Possessor as well as the Possessed if incorrectly done.

His heart beat faster at the implications of his own thoughts. From his own words, Mendrick had dabbled with that Oracle for years, and its influence had clearly addled his brain permanently, whereas Lily had been under its influence for only a few minutes, at the most, but still….

Lily moaned softly again and stirred, her eyes screwed shut against the pain in her arm, the memory of what happened, or both. Her good arm slipped behind his neck, as she tried to lift up her head.

'Lily…' he whispered urgently, willing her to wake up.

The noise from the pursuing voices had dwindled to a faint whisper, but the low rumbling vibrations below his feet had not. If this mountain was a dormant volcano, or if something more sinister, but just as deadly, moved in its bowels, they had to find their way out of there fast…

'Sev…?'

He glanced down to find a pair of bewildered, almond-shaped eyes looking up at him. Only they were focussed somewhere on his chest.

_Damn! He was still under the Disillusionment Charm!_

How did she know it was him? After what happened in the chamber, waking up to the sensation of being carried by a ghost must be alarming for her, to say the least. Yet she did not scream as he had half-expected: with a small sigh, she actually clung on tighter as though for comfort.

'It – It's me, Lily. I forgot –'

But a second later her eyes widened in sudden comprehension, he heard a sharp intake of breath and she started struggling. He set her down and pointed his wand at himself, extinguishing the wandlight as, with a silent spell, he reversed the Disillusionment Charm.

'_Lumos_' he whispered a few seconds later, and Lily stood wide-eyed and trembling in the double glare of white-blue beam of light from both their wands which he still held in his hands. She was hugging herself and shivering, her head bent away from the light.

'The light - it hurts...' she said, her voice quivering and shading her eyes with her good hand.

Severus hastily extinguished the wandlight and conjured some soft bluebell flames which he levitated some distance away from them. Lily's hand came away from her eyes and they fixed themselves on his, the expression in them oddly vulnerable and childlike.

At least there wasn't that polite indifference he so hated. Then again, merlin knew how she was feeling after that being Possessed, or whatever it was that had happened back in that Oracle chamber. He swallowed drily, and took a step towards her.

'Are you alright? Can you wa-?'

'What are you doing here, Severus?'

He stopped suddenly. Her voice was steadier now and she took a step backwards. Even though she was still hugging herself tightly, shivering beneath her cloak, he could see her struggling to take control, to disguise her fear and put up that impenetrable wall of cold indifference between them.

_Like hell she would!_

'Don't!' he spat, putting all the anguish and frustration of the past couple of hours into that one angry word.

It echoed around the rock-hewn tunnel as with a few steps he closed the distance between them, and pushed his face close to hers, glaring down at her from only inches away, so that she could fucking well _see_ what he'd been through on her behalf.

She actually took a surprised step backwards at his tone, until her back came against the smooth carved wall of the tunnel. In the soft light of the bluebell flames, her pale face grew whiter still.

'Just - _don't_,' he repeated, in a lower, but just as menacing, voice.

Anyone seeing, at such close quarters, the darkening look in Severus Snapes' eyes glittering from the inky blue-black shadows cast by the blue flames, would have quailed at the sight, or sought the quickest route of escape.

But not Lily Evans.

She gazed up at him steadily, drawing herself to full height, even though her face was growing paler with the effort, and she did not quite succeed in hiding her trembling limbs.

'Then answer my question,' she said simply, her eyes never leaving his.

He gazed at her silently for a second, resisting the impulse to yell her own question back at her. Did she realise what she had just put them both through? What they still hadn't really gotten away from?

'I followed you,' he said instead, 'I overheard you telling Lupin about coming to Ben Cόrhveinn to meet Mendrick'

Her eyes widened suddenly in remembrance 'Mendrick! He's –'

But Severus anticipated her. 'Mendrick is beyond your help right now. He's been at that Oracle once too often...'

'You know him?'

'I do now,' he spat out savagely, his head still throbbing from Mendrick's unexpected and savage, bare-handed attack.

'Why d'you follow me, Severus?'

She was looking up at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes, and he knew it was a loaded question. With the shock of understanding, he realised that beneath the hard look she was now giving him, there was fear: she dreaded to hear his answer; her pale face and trembling hands betrayed her, in spite of her defiant stance.

But what _could_ he answer? Wasn't it obvious to her why he'd come?

'Did you hear what you wanted to hear?' Lily continued, hardening her voice. 'D'you understand what the Oracle said? I'm sure Voldemort will be very pleased you've uncovered a plot to stop his senseless war!'

He stood rooted to the spot, feeling himself become pale and deathly still. So _that_ was what she had been thinking. How _could_ she? How could her opinion of him sink so low? His body still ached from Mendrick's beserk attack, they were deep inside a rumbling mountain with Merlin-knew-what unspeakable magic hot on their tails, and she thought him nothing but a spy! A white-hot rage rose in him, filling the shocked void left by her words.

'Is that what you think?' his voice sounded deceptively quiet.

'Why? What else did you come for?'

He smashed his fist into the wall, inches away from her head as the welling rage inside him overflowed, blinding him. She jumped, startled at his uncharacteristic reaction. As pain shot up from his bruised knuckles, he knew she was right to look at him in such wide-eyed surprise: but there was a strange grim satisfaction in using your fists and not your wand ...he had found that out last year when he punched Potter in the face. Or perhaps it was his father's legacy showing through...

She was looking up at him in open-mouthed surprise. There was none of the previous disguised fear, but only a wondering, astonished look. Well, what the fuck did he care? Let her! She could add this to the list of unsavoury aspects of his character that she seemed so willing to see now. For a moment he stared at her in silence, panting hard, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

'Mendrick spoke in a dead language even _I_ couldn't understand,' he said finally, his voice venomous and low, 'It was just _gibberish_!'

She blinked, and was about to interrupt, but he cut across her.

'Obviously, I interrupted your fun. Well, sorry for that, I should've just left you there,' he continued, his voice dripping sarcasm, 'However, you're free to go back, I'm sure once Mendrick wipes that blood from his eyes and calms down a bit, he can liaise again on your behalf with whoever or whatever has Possessed the both of you...'

'Severus, I –' but she gulped guiltily as his eyes bore accusingly into hers, and lowered her own.

He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath through his nose, trying to restrain the angry, scathing words that came to his mind. Next instant, he wished he hadn't, for her sweet smell, her close proximity, the shiny tear-streaks down her cheek, threatened to make him lose all the pent-up rage that still simmered inside him.

And he didn't want that. No more weakness. That, the hard lessons of life had taught him, always backfired in painful and humiliating ways.

He closed his eyes briefly and took a step backwards. Their allegiance to opposing sides of the two factions in this war had long ago come between them, but if she thought he was here to sell her out to Voldemort, then she'd forgotten what had once had passed between them. She shouldn't have, whatever misguided choices she'd made thereafter. He, for one, could never forget, but neither would he let those emotions get the better of him again.

'Now, since you think the Dark Lord is on tenterhooks to hear an earful of gibberish from an addle-pated old wizard, I mustn't keep him waiting...'

'Stop that!'

Two angry red spots had appeared in Lily's cheeks, but even as her eyes flickered to his, they couldn't hold his gaze and fell again, and she blinked rapidly.

'Why? I'm a Death-Eater in the making. Anyone should, I suppose, think I'd be happy to uncover a plot to stop the Dark Lord's war and expose the perpetrators... _Anyone but you_!'

'What am I _supposed _to think? '_my loyalties to the Dark Lord are unwavering'- _that's what you told me that - that night, last June,' Lily's voice rose higher, but it was quivering with anguish now, rather than a righteous anger 'And Mendrick spoke in plain English... you _heard_ him, -'

'_You_ heard him. Since at the time, you were, I think, Possessed, only _you_ could understand,' he answered coldly, 'Now, lest you think I have any further nefarious plans ...here's your wand.'

And he offered her her own wand, handle first and resting on the cuff of his left sleeve in the accepted formal manner dictated by wizarding etiquette.

She put out her hand hesitantly and took it, staring at it with glistening eyes that still wouldn't meet his. Then he silently whirled around, and turned his back on her, leaving her standing there alone.

He strode purposefully down the carved passageway, ignoring the screaming voice in his head that was telling his to _stop_! Stop and go BACK!

He was leaving the one witch that ever meant anything to him alone in a dark tunnel, pursued by the ghosts of ancient magic. A few minutes later, as the darkness enveloped him, he slowed down and lit his wand. The tunnel was deserted and silent except for the thrumming from deep within the ground. The voices were gone but the strange hum had become louder. He hadn't noticed while he was speaking to Lily. It was a strong throbbing beat, rising in readiness for something... _What_, he didn't know.

And Lily was somewhere back there, probably realising only now, for she had been unconscious before, that the mountain had awakened somehow. She'd never come out of there alive. A mental image of her blackened wrist, her burnt, shaking hand as she took the wand he offered her, came back to him...

Damn! He had been a fool! He'd come so far only to abandon her at the end – she couldn't have been thinking straight after what happened,

He turned round and broke into a run, determined to go back and get her – forcibly, if necessary, when suddenly the ground shook violently beneath his feet and he lost his balance. It lasted only a few seconds then the shaking stopped, replaced by a dead silence: even the humming vibrations were gone.

Swearing fluently he jumped up when something – something just at the edge of his perception - froze him in his tracks: someone or something moved in the darkness of the tunnels and labyrinth beyond.

'_Nox_' he whispered, and in a thick darkness alive with possibilities, he stood and waited.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Lost.**

Lily looked at Severus' swirling black cloak as he disappeared down a dark tunnel to her right. As soon as he was gone, the flickering bluebell lights he had conjured dissipated too, and she was plunged into darkness.

She remained rooted to the spot, and didn't even think of lighting her wand, though it was in her hand – her hand was feeling numb now anyway, and a tingling sensation was running up and down her arm, awakening further sharp twinges of pain.

The only sound was the thudding of her heart, and the voice of her conscience maliciously hissing guilty words in her head. She felt her throat constrict. What had she done? Severus had saved her life, and instead of thanking him, she had gone on the defensive, accusing him of….

She buried her face in her hand and slumped back weakly against the wall. Why, why, _why _had she done that?

She had known it was him. Even as she awoke , still groggy and bewildered, she knew the arms around her were his, and the heart beating steadily in the chest where she rested her cheek was her old friends', as was the familiar smell of him, even though she could not see him. He was under a Disillusionment Charm and it felt like she was being borne along on a strong dark wind…

And her first reaction, on coming round, had been of relief: she remembered that clearly now: clinging tightly to him and drawing an intense comfort from his presence as she could have drawn from no other.

But when she came fully to her senses, her mind finally caught up with what her heart was doing, she reacted immediately. Over-reacted perhaps: the vision of Voldemort's evil face was fresh in her mind, and, the only other time she had seen him so close was in Severus'_ own head_, when last year, a strange spell had bound their two minds, their two souls together. It had set off the chain of events that finally led to their falling apart so completely…

So, somehow, when she came to her senses again, she associated Severus with the vision of Voldemort and accused him accordingly.

But she had also been scared of her own reaction to Severus: her body betrayed her as it had done at least once before since they had fallen apart. His closeness easily unbalanced her and she had felt vulnerable and scared, as well as disoriented when he put her down on her own feet.

Seeing the concern in his eyes when he reversed the Disillusionment Charm was hard, but seeing the hurt in them when he smashed his fist into the wall in anger at her words was even harder. She had understood then, why he had come – he had come because of her! Because he loved her still...

Tears leaked out between her fingers and her breath caught in a choking sob at the thought.

Severus had saved her life. No-one else would have known how to – he had somehow yanked her out of that dreaded place, a place alive with old magic. And it hadn't been easy, judging by the cut on his temple and the bruises on his face. Someone, or something, must've attacked him. The magic she had unleashed at the Oracle was powerful and uncontrollable, yet he could easily have saved himself and left her there, to stew in a mischief of her own brewing! But he had risked his life, even perhaps his sanity, to get her out of that hell-hole, and she had repaid him by doubting his reasons! Doubting even her own feelings ... feelings that she had been in denial about for months, and yet, during this one unguarded, vulnerable moment, had come flooding back so intensely, so strongly, that it shocked her. That was another reason why she lashed at Severus, and the reason for her scared withdrawal behind the cold wall of formality.

That wall was entirely stripped away now and she tried to gulp back her tears, but they came anyway, her anguished sobs loud in the dark silence.

It was some time before she realised it wasn't silent anymore: there was a humming sound, a thrumming vibration deep within the mountain itself.

She willed herself to listen... clutching her wand with what little sensation she had left in her fingers, she ignored the searing pain in her wrist and pushed herself off the wall, staggering slightly, for her legs still felt weak. Her ragged breathing loud in her ears, yet it wasn't enough to hide the strange sound, which was increasing in volume.

'_Lumos'_ she choked out.

But nothing happened.

'_Lumos!' _she said again, her voice quivering with the edge of panic.

But the thick darkness remained unchanged. What was happening? Why couldn't she cast that simple spell? Did the damage to her hand have something to do with it? Trying to quell a rising panic, she was about to try again, when she heard the voices: they whispered eerily from the encompassing darkness around her, dead voices rustling like dry leaves from all directions, forgotten words that she could not now understand. And yet, though she didn't know what the harsh guttural sounds meant, their hostility was unmistakeable...

A primeval fear clouded her mind, and she couldn't think clearly. Why was she hearing voices even here? Severus said she had been Possessed: where the voices in her head only? Was she going mad, like Mendrick? She didn't know anything about Possession, except that it was dark, dangerous magic that rarely left its victims brains unscathed.

She stumbled forward on trembling legs, her heart beating so fast it felt like it was trying to flee her chest. The rumbling hum, like the voices, was in crescendo.

Panicked, she tried to disapparate but nothing happened. Mendrick had said it was impossible to apparate in or out of the mountain, but if she couldn't even cast a simple spell to light her wand, that was out of the question anyway.

Where was her Gryffindor courage? Where was all the bravado with which she had entered this accursed mountain? If only she didn't feel so drained; if only she could use her wand, she might find the remnants of courage with which she had come here... but with no magic she felt defenceless, helpless...

And even if she could use magic, what if the voices were echoing in her own head, tainted by Possession?

Stumbling forward in the suffocating darkness, she broke into a run but hit against a wall, rebounding backwards painfully. Severus had gone down a corridor to the right, so that must be the way out. She searched blindly for the opening with her good hand, feeling nothing but smooth, cold rock beneath her trembling fingers, as well as that strange vibration. Had the mountain come alive, aware of the intrusion of strangers?

The whispering voices were closer now, as though the ancient speakers were right behind her shoulder in the pitch-black darkness. The blood drained from her face and she felt an icy hand close around her heart, panic coursing through her veins... She was fighting a losing battle with her sanity!

The sound of her frantic sobs echoed down the corridor, and she broke into a blind, panicked run, stumbling and rebounding blindly off the hard granite walls. In a last moment of desperation, she transferred the wand from her right to her left hand and fired a Blasting Curse. To her surprise, something _did_ happen: it was not a proper blasting curse, for the spell was not cast with her wand arm and was therefore inaccurate, but the resultant flash of light was enough to show her the rock-hewn tunnel, with its many off shoots and catacomb-like niches. They were deserted and there was not even a ghost of a sign of the owners of the hostile voices, but the flash of light did nothing to abate their persistent whispering. They must be in her head only! However, she also saw the corridor she had seen Severus disappear into and, desperation lending speed to her feet, she threw herself down the dolmen-like opening.

Then suddenly, the earth heaved and the ground shook. She lost her balance, falling hard on her injured hand with a cry of pain. The movement was over in a few seconds. Scrambling frantically up again, holding her throbbing wrist to her chest, she whirled round, her wand in her left hand but unwilling to use it so inaccurately again.

But all was silent.

A pregnant silence with no hum, no whispering voices: just the wild beating of her own heart and her ragged breathing.

It was worse.

Her imagination, fuelled by the recent horrors, provided lurking dangers she could not see or hear now in the enshrouding darkness. Her limbs trembling in anticipation of Merlin –knew-what, she walked backwards, her eyes wide and staring, seeing nothing in the blackness surrounding her. Her mind reached a fever pitch of dread, and, in the throes of a primeval fear, she turned and ran blindly once more, her breath torn out of her throat in gasps.

And she ran straight into something solid.

_Someone_ solid.

They both staggered backwards with the force of her momentum, but she knew who it was even before he spoke.

'Lily! What the -?!'

She couldn't speak, but just clung to him, as his arms steadied her. Then her whole body was shaking with wracking sobs as the tension of the past hour caught up with her. Tumultuous emotions flooded through her: fear of what she had unleashed, fear of herself and what was in her head; a grinding remorse at her own words, but above all, an overwhelming relief that she had found him, and that he was not pushing her away from him in disgust.

He had every right to.

She had brought all this on herself. She _deserved_ it.

But instead, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and stroking her hair with a gentleness no-one would ever have thought possible of Severus Snape. He did not say anything, but waited until her sobbing eased and only a slight trembling remained.

She could have stayed there forever, in the dark, hiding her face in the rough fabric of his robes and breathing in the familiar smell of him: of candle-tallow and potion herbs; of old books and parchment; hearing the rapid, strong beat of his heart... But as her wild emotions slowly came under her control, her disjointed thoughts became more coherent and a myriad pressing things edged in on her consciousness, a million things she wanted to say. But she only managed two words:

'I'm sorry,' she murmured, in a quivering voice.

She felt him stiffen slightly.

'It's ok, you've had quite a shock, and –'

'No, Severus –' and she pulled slightly away, trying to see his face in the dark, 'That's not what I mean, I - ' she drew a tremulous breath, willing herself not to cry again.

She felt him shift his arm and with a wave of his wand, the bluebell flames shivered again into existence, their flickering light illuminating their pale faces in a soft glow.

He was looking at her, of course - his eyes a velvety black beneath the inky shadow of his hair, and the expression them so unexpectedly tender, that it took her breath away. She felt herself tremble, and pushing herself away from him, she hung her head, unable to look into his eyes again.

'I'm sorry,' she repeated 'I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean….' The tears came again and her voice quivered. 'I _know_ why you came, Severus, but….'

She wiped her eyes ingloriously on her sleeve, as her throat constricted.

He made a movement towards her, but she took a step backwards.

'No – No, Severus, don't! Don't come near. I - I think you're right. I think I may still be Possessed, I keep hearing voices but there's no-one around, they're all in my head and I can't cast a simple spell, and – and I don't know what's _happening_ to me!'

Her words came out incoherently, in a jumble of fear and confusion. She tried to control herself: Severus never appreciated hysterics, but he was looking at her steadily and purposefully now.

'Do you remember everything that happened in the cave?' his tone was business-like, and only the slight furrowing of his brows betrayed his concern.

'Yes, until I passed out.'

'There are no blank patches of memory, then, like chunks of conversation missing…?'

She shook her head. 'When Mendrick grabbed me, I couldn't see anything, the visions obscured everything, but I knew where I was and what was happening…sort of.'

'Visions?' Severus brows furrowed further.

'Yes, but I remember everything until I fainted. You were there, weren't you? You caught me. It's the last thing I remember…'

'Of course I was there,' he said in a barely audible voice, as he looked down in her face with concern. Then, with a flick of his wand, he summoned the Bluebell lights closer.

'No, don't look away' he instructed, placing his hand gently around her face and turning it to face the blue flames, 'Look straight at it. Does the light still hurt your eyes?'

'Not so much now.'

She blinked weakly through her tear-stained eyes at the flickering bluebell flames while Severus muttered an unknown spell while he passed his wand crosswise over her eyes.

He seemed satisfied with the result for she saw him give a small sigh of relief as he put his wand down. His other hand, still cupping her face, lingered a second longer before he snatched it away.

'It's not Possession' he said, 'There aren't the typical signs.'

'So what is it?'

'I have no idea. This predates the definition of dark magic. What's behind that Oracle is beyond what modern wizards can understand or control. Even Mendrick knew that' he looked at her with exasperated wonder in his eyes. 'What in Merlin's bullocks where you _thinking_, Lily?!'

She stood before him like a chastised child. He was probably right, and it had all been for nothing.

'I... '

But she didn't know what to say.

'Well, you achieved what centuries of brilliant wizards and witches have never managed…' he said and something in his voice made her look up. His lips were twitching upwards. 'Trust blundering Gryffindor rashness to get the Oracle to speak and shake up an entire mountain besides…'

She gave a spluttering laugh. It reminded her forcibly of when they were children and Severus would reprimand her for her unthinking Gryffindor foolhardiness whenever she proposed another excursion through the forest or a flight on the old school brooms through stormy weather.

Severus was looking at her with a rare smile on his lips. A warmth spread through her body, thawing the icy clutching fear that had closed around her heart previously. Why was it that whenever she was with Severus she felt safe? Throughout the increasingly sinister adventures his Great-grandfather's book on dark arts had involved them in, there was never a time when felt she couldn't rely on him to find a way out. He had always been there at her side, a brooding and rather irascible presence, true; but a steady, clear-headed one, nonetheless.

'The mountain's still shaking. So I'm not imagining _that,_ at least, am I?' she said, sniffling loudly and feeling slightly ashamed to have let herself become so hysterical over disembodied voices.

He shook his head. 'Neither the voices. I heard them too, closer to the oracle chamber. But we should get a move on - I don't like the sound of this and if you can't apparate in or out of this mountain, it'll take us some time to get out.'

She nodded, hearing the urgency in his voice, and Severus lit his wand, extinguished the bluebell fire and went on ahead, illuminating the way forward. She followed more slowly, feeling suddenly a bit shy and nervous. She hadn't really spoken to Severus for almost a year and just now, she had –

'Tell me about the visions.'

He had slowed down , waiting for her to catch up.

She bit her lip.

'They were –' she hesitated.

Should she tell him? But what _could_ she tell him? He seemed to interpret her hesitation as a refusal.

'I'm only trying to figure out what happened to you!' he said tightly, and moved on ahead.

'I saw Hogwarts' she blurted out, 'And Hogsmeade. But like I've never seen them before. And I saw this place too, with people...' Severus had slowed down and turned to look at her.

'I – I'm not really sure I understand what I saw...'

'It could be you saw visions of this place in the past. Mendrick mentioned the ancient ones might've used this place to move in time and space...'

'You heard that?'

He nodded. 'I was right behind you.'

'Oh.'

'At that moment I couldn't decide whether Mendrick was totally insane or a mad genius'

'And you decided on the latter,' Lily said with a wry smile.

'I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.'

She gave a small laugh. 'Don't worry, Severus, I was intrigued myself. You don't get to hear stuff like that every day.'

'No, you don't. But when he led you through that damned hole I realised I should've acted on my first instincts and strangled him!'

She did not say anything but stole a glance at him. No doubt he was perfectly capable of carrying out that threat, but somehow, his words made her feel warm inside.

'I don't think he even actually knew exactly what would happen. He's not _evil.._.'

Severus gave a humourless laugh 'You still insist on thinking people have no hidden agendas, don't you? You didn't see the berserk way he attacked me when I freed you from his grip!'

That explained the bruises on his face. The warm feeling inside her grew and dispelled the last remnants of fear induced by the wretched place. It didn't dispel the pain crawling up her arm though, and her fingertips were completely numb now, thanks to Mendrick.

'I should've finished what that Oracle started,' Severus was muttering darkly.

She remembered the horrifying sight of Mendrick grovelling on the floor of the chamber before she passed out.

'What happened to him?'

'I don't know. Perhaps he's been sniffing around that oracle hole too often, or perhaps when I broke the connection it further damaged his brain...Frankly, I don't care.'

'D'you think he'll survive?'

Severus turned to glare at her. 'How often have you seen people with eyes glowing like the moon and then leaking blood-red tears?! You were already doing the first and if I had waited a moment longer...' he stopped seeing the stunned look on her face, and changed track '... but if it makes you feel any better,' he continued 'Mendrick used the Oracle before and survived, and he knows the place like the back of his hand. Here – this way now.'

Severus turned sharply to the right, bending down to get through another low door carved in the rock. She followed, grateful for Severus' sense of direction in these dark tunnels. She would never have found her way out alone. But that was not the only thing she was grateful for: she hadn't even thanked him properly for saving her life (and her sanity).

His wandlight lit the passageway ahead with a pale white light. She hurried to catch up with him. There were several fist-sized niches at elbow height in the wall. She remembered she had seen them fleetingly in her visions.

'They're for oil-lamps,' she said out loud.

'What? These?' Severus asked looking at what she was seeing.

'I saw them in the visions. And the walls of the Oracle chamber were red with ...with blood.'

'You saw visions of the past. This place was in use, prehistorically.'

'Yeah, I guess. Hogsmeade looked dirty enough to be sixteenth century, but I don't think it's only the past. There were muggles walking with goblins...it was surreal.'

'Oracles are notoriously ambiguous. Like divination. You never believed in that stuff before.'

He was looking at her curiously.

'Neither did you. But, I don't know... I would say that what happened in that chamber is pretty convincing, Severus.'

'I'm perfectly convinced only fools, mad geniuses, and delusionally-altruistic Gryffindors would dare mess about with Earth Magic.'

'It's not such a bad idea when there are knowledgeable Slytherins around, well-versed in magic arts almost as old as the self-same Earth Magic, to get out of said mess...'

She felt herself smile in the dim tunnel, as he glanced sideways at her with a familiar expression of fond exasperation. It was as if the clock had been turned. With all that passed between them the previous year, she was surprised at how easily they had fallen into the teasing banter of their earlier years. Puzzling out the oracle's mystery felt like old times, when they would spend hours discussing a homework project and eagerly going off at random on some interesting but obscure point of magical knowledge, eagerly goading each other from different viewpoints until there was nothing they didn't know about that subject.

And yet there was something different... there was something unsettling, as well as familiar, in the tall, dark young man walking at her side. It was almost a year since she had even stood this close to him, she realised.

'Perhaps the Oracle is some sort of ancient memory-preserving device, like a pensieve,' Severus was saying.

'A pensieve is more user-friendly...it doesn't _possess_ you, or whatever it is that the oracle did to my head,' she replied ruefully 'I don't think that's it.'

'There are more ways to preserve and see memories than a pensieve. You know that,' he said quietly.

Yes, I do,' she answered, a note of sadness creeping into her voice.

Severus had been the one to preserve a memory in something that was not a pensieve. It was a pendant. A beautiful one he had given her for her sixteenth birthday. She had discovered how to see that memory, and what she saw was beautiful yet terrifying.

And that was what was different between them now: although they had slipped so effortlessly into their previous roles, yet it could never really be the same again. For many reasons.

One of them was that they were now aware of each other in a way that wasn't there before – or was there, but unacknowledged.

Unacknowledged, until the day he kissed her.

They had lapsed into silence, broken only by the ominous hum and vibration of the mountain beneath their feet. That awareness was something she was fighting a losing battle to ignore right now. It was as though her senses were heightened or magnified tenfold, somehow, for she was aware of every light step, every movement and every breath of the young man at her side. She was so close to him in the narrow passageway that she could see he had grown taller.

Against her will, her eyes kept wandering sideways, searching for other changes, but the stark blue-and-white shadows cast by the wandlight obscured everything, as did his hair, which he had carelessly allowed to reach beyond his shoulders again. He had a habit, when a boy, of allowing his lanky hair to fall in front of his face sometimes as though he wanted to shut out the world...

Was he doing that now? What was he thinking?

Was he, like her, remembering every detail of the memory he had just alluded to?

She wished she could look into those dark eyes and see. She used to be one of the few who could read anything in Severus Snape's inscrutable dark eyes, but it had been so long... Besides, she wasn't sure that she wanted to find out. How much more had he changed while she had been so determinedly trying to forget him? How much further had he travelled down the path he had chosen? It scared her.

And excited her.

Not the path he had chosen, but his brooding presence by her side, the occasional brushing of their shoulders as they walked side by side in the dim light; the barely audible sigh her heightened senses heard him give, at her answer to his remark...

Why was Severus the only one who could make her feel this way? Excited, scared, elated and sad - all at the same time! She had spent a whole year trying to forget this, and yet, after barely a half an hour with him, she was already prey to a jumble of emotions she could scarcely control. Why couldn't theirs have been an uncomplicated and straightforward, like many of the other boys she had dated?

The question was rhetorical, she knew that. Severus was like none of those boys, whom she barely even remembered. Severus was as different from them as night from day. It was, perhaps, the reason why she and Severus got on so well together. But there was one difference she could not accept. It had come to the forefront last year and his actions and decisions then had torn them apart. Actions and decisions he may have further acted upon since that time.

'It wasn't only the past I saw, but the present and future' she said slowly, breaking the spiralling silence between them 'because there was one wizard who I saw in more than one vision. Someone I recognised, and someone who is alive now.'

She swallowed drily, afraid of what was spilling from her mouth, but determined to go on anyway, possessed by a frank recklessness she thought she might regret later, but was unable to stop. And it wasn't the fleeting glimpse of James Potter in the visions that worried her. It was someone else. Severus stopped and looked at her with a puzzled expression.

'His face was the last thing I saw before the visions stopped,' she said, speaking slowly and deliberately, 'It was more deformed than it is now, but I've seen it before– _Voldemort_!'

She heard the sharp intake of breath and next thing she knew, Severus had grabbed her by the arm, bringing her to a sudden halt. She winced, for it was her injured arm.

'Don't say his name!' he hissed at her savagely. His face was pale with shock and fear.

It was not the reaction she expected. She hadn't _known_ what to expect – perhaps a cross-examination as to how and where she had seen in Voldemort in her vision, not this exaggerated fear.

'Why?' she challenged, feeling the stirring of anger.

Sure, people always said _He-who-must-not-be-named,_ but that was just a superstitious fear or misplaced blind worship of a murderous, twisted, dark wizard who hated muggleborns like her. And Severus was not the worshiping type.

'There's a taboo on that name!'

'A what?'

'His name uttered with disrespect or deceit by any Death Eater will trigger a Bleeding Curse. Now there are rumours it will trigger a sort of Trace too.'

'Then we should be fine. We're not Death Eaters...right?'

She had spilled her secret fear. That is why she mentioned Voldemort. She had wanted to see if he had joined up. He was of age now. They both were, and could technically join the war on whichever side they chose.

Severus was not saying anything. He had let go of her arm ( which was really numb, now) and was looking at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Her heart started beating faster, an unspeakable dread welling inside her. Merlin, let him say he hadn't joined! Let him say he wasn't already part of the pillaging, murderous, gang that were wreaking havoc on muggles and those of her ilk.

'They – they say He marks them...' she whispered, her mouth dry '...marks them with dark magic, as his own.'

Her eyes flickered up to his, desperately searching for the truth in those dark depths. She didn't even know why she was doing this! He had never denied he wanted to join up! It was why they had drifted apart, so why was she being so insistent? Sooner or later he would join up. But the thought that the dark young man standing before her was a Death Eater filled her with dread. And helpless anger.

Severus' eyes were darkening and his inscrutable expression wavered.

'The Dark Lord chooses only the best to mark as his own...' he said in a monotone. It did not fool Lily, she knew he was angry '... or those who are most loyal.'

'Or those who have murdered enough muggles!'

She bit her lip. Why did she have to say that?!

'What's it to you anyway, Lily? You spent all year trying to pretend I don't exist! What's it to you, if I'm marked as a Death Eater?!' Severus' voice echoed angrily along the empty tunnels.

'It means _everything_ to me! You know that!' her voice quivered and she blinked rapidly.

Why did it always have to come to this? Looking at each other across widening paths. Neither willing to give in or even fathom why the other would not see the sense of their argument.

'I don't fit in with _your _plan to save the world, Lily. That's what you came here for, right?' His voice was still hard, but not so angry now. 'Well I'm not going to be part of it, so you might as well forget you saw me -!'

But at that moment the earth heaved again and she felt herself thrown forwards, her feet knocked from under her. She fell heavily, her arm too numb to cushion her weight and suddenly the deep hum within the mountain became a crashing roar – a grinding, gravelly, crushing sound that reverberated loudly all around. Severus' wandlight bounced erratically off the walls, which were moving and writhing like a live thing.

Moving?!

But solid rock couldn't do that!

She felt a hand beneath her arm, lifting her up.

'We need to get the hell out of here!' Severus shouted over the noise.

'What's happening?'

'I don't know. _Run!'_

They ran. Severus, with his longer strides, was pulling her along. He fired flares of crimson fire ahead of them to illuminate the way, for wandlight, when running, was too erratic. The flares revealed walls that were heaving and moving on either side of them, the noise of the rock particles grinding against each other with a deafening crunching sound. The various niches and tunnels branching off from the one they were following were getting smaller and smaller.

'The mountain is closing itself!' She shouted, realising where the movement was going, 'Severus! The _mountain's_ closing! We'll be trapped in here!'

'The dolmen door should be somewhere ahead! We'll be in the outer cavern after that. Can you run any faster?'

She tried. Her breath came raggedly and there was a stitch in her side and she could not feel her hand, from the wrist downwards. Casting a spell to save herself was not an option. The air, already very cool in the tunnels, became suddenly freezing cold.

The dolmen-like structure that marked the end of the passageway was right ahead. She could see it now.

Then the voices started again. But they weren't whispering now. They were screeching and shouting in their ancient language. Screaming for _blood_!

How she knew this she couldn't fathom, but she'd heard the words 'blood sacrifice' somewhere. It was the Oracle that had said so. Or was it? It was getting difficult to think with the voices in her head. Her mind was blurry and way ahead, the Dolmen door was narrowing, closing...

'Lily! _Lily!_' there was desperation in Severus' voice.

'Don't leave me...' she whispered.

Or perhaps he should. He should save himself. It would be her fault if he didn't make it. But his hand remained tightly gripped round hers, and then when she felt she couldn't take another step, she felt his arms close around her and lift her off her feet. The voices in her head were now screaming blue murder, competing with the crushing, grinding noise of the moving rocks that assaulted her eardrums, but, even as she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, she could see, in the flashing light of the flames, that the Dolmen Door was almost completely closed. They weren't going to make it! They were lost!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Trapped.**

**A/n: this was supposed to be one chapter, but as usual, it got too long, so I had to divide. I will be posting the second part of this as Chapter 13 - hopefully this coming weekend.**

She clung on tightly around his neck with her one good arm as Severus ran forward, then her breath was squeezed out her body and the darkness swallowed them. Struggling against unconsciousness, she realised Severus was disapparating both of them out of the cave.

But you couldn't apparate in or out of the mountain...

The sensation of having the very life crushed out of her was stronger and longer than she had ever experienced in apparition. Were they being splinched? The only advantage was that the crushing sensation of Disapparition seemed to have squeezed the furious voices out of her head, and she was vaguely aware that Severus still held her. She clung with all her remaining strength to the last vestiges of consciousness, and just as she thought she would black out, the pressure eased suddenly and they were slammed roughly against something solid. Severus gave a grunt of pain at the impact, for he had borne the brunt of it. She drew in a ragged breath, her head clearing, but she could not see anything.

They were in complete and utter darkness.

And a resounding silence.

Not only were the voices in her head gone, but so was the grinding noise and the deep hum from the mountain.

'Are you okay?'

She could not see Severus' face in the dark, but she could feel his breath on her cheek and heard the anxious note in his voice.

'I'm – I'm fine, now. What happened?' her voice echoed loudly, as in a cathedral.

Severus put her down and lighted his wand, bringing it close to her face. She winced and turned away immediately, shading her eyes from its bright glare. The wandlight was extinguished and a second later, the soft bluebell fire appeared.

Severus pointed his wand at the blue flames and they rose higher, throwing their soft blue light on a wider area. They were in a cavern – a big one. Severus was looking around intently at the smooth cavern walls – its ceiling was so high it was lost in darkness, and at one end the cavern floor was a raised in a round, low, table-like structure. Lily thought she recognised it.

'The Raven's cave!' she said, and, a second later, she remembered: 'Remus! Remus should be here!'

'Well, he's not.'

'He would've felt the mountain shake. Perhaps he went to get help.'

'I doubt it.'

Something in his voice made Lily look up, but Severus had moved off to examine the dim recesses of the cavern floor. Pointing his wand at the bluebell flames, they divided into two separate little fires which moved some distance apart. The light revealed that the large cavern was deserted, and the strange niches and catacomb-like openings and branching tunnels had somehow disappeared.

So had the unusual wing-shaped opening to the outside.

'We're – we're trapped in here, aren't we?' she said tremulously, 'the mountain closed itself. It locked us in.'

'Or locked everyone out.'

'What?'

'This is Earth Magic, Lily. No-one understands it. There are no charms, enchantments or spells that can move the fabric of a mountain the way we saw. You can blast some rock with a Confringo Curse, or even change its shape and form with others, but you can't move a mountain.'

'But rock is inanimate, it just can't move without a witch or wizard willing it to.'

'Perhaps the ancient people who lived here amalgamated their presence into the place, I don't know. There were bones in the niches – part of this place is a burial ground. They – or the mountain – might not want further intrusions, and so locked everybody out.'

'But the Oracle said -' She hesitated.

Severus looked round at her slowly, but remained silent, a tall, inky-black shadow in the light of the flickering flames. There was a glitter of blue light as the silver clasp of his cloak caught the light from the bluebell flames, but above that, his face was just a pale sliver between dark hair and she could not see his expression.

She took a deep breath and continued. 'The Oracle _wanted_ to speak to me, I – I think. Through Mendrick. That's why I heard it in plain English. It spoke about a never-ending war and that magic will be no more. It also spoke about a blood sacrifice.'

She saw him shift slightly, but he remained silent.

'It also mentioned deer - the Spirit of the Forest, but nothing made much sense,' she gave a derisive laugh, 'As you said, Oracles are notoriously ambiguous...and I guess all I have to show for the mess we're in, really, is an 'earful of gibberish,'' she ended ruefully, echoing his words from earlier.

'Sometimes riddles require time to puzzle out,' Severus said slowly, as though he was choosing his words with care 'Mendrick drew an analogy between the many branches of that Tree of Life painting, and the many divergent paths of the past, present and future coming together in the Oracle.'

'The Oracle doesn't sound so foolproof anyway_: What the Oracle foretells will inevitably come true only insomuch as the world is unaware of its presence',' _she said, quoting Mendrick,_ '_What's that supposed to mean, anyway?'

Severus shrugged. 'That if you know about it, and assuming you can survive its' effects, you can change the course of events. But that would, in turn, have already neutralised its divination powers, right? I don't know, Lily, I gave up Divination in third year, remember?'

Of course she remembered, She had given it up too, and they had gone together to speak to old Professor Magus about it.

He turned back to his examination of the smooth walls of the cavern, and showed no further signs that he was even interested in the Oracle's pronouncements.

Lily looked around her. The Raven's Cave, as Mendrick had called it, was enormous and roughly oval in shape. The ground was smooth and even, but there were various split levels and short, dead-end passageways leading off from the various levels. Only a bare outline remained where the other tunnels and niches and passageways had been. She saw the outline of the dolmen-like structure that marked the access to the tunnels beyond. Its opening was seamlessly blocked by stone.

'You apparated us...' she said, remembering.

'I meant to apparate us outside, but I guess Mendrick was right: you can't apparate in or out of this mountain, though apparently, you can within it. But I'm not trying that again.'

'No,' she said shaking her head emphatically, 'I wouldn't want to end up somewhere in that chamber again.'

Severus glanced at her sharply as she said this.

'No, you wouldn't,' he said, darkly.

She shifted uncomfortably. 'I heard the voices again.'

'That's what I suspected. You were...'

'What?'

'Let's just say I didn't like the look in your eyes. The sooner we get you out of here the better.'

She didn't say anything in reply to those ominous words, but they had a chilling effect. Had her eyes glowed like Mendrick's had done? Even if she was not possessed, was she somehow contaminated by this incomprehensible magical presence in the mountain? If the Oracle wanted her to hear, why were the other voices so hostile? She didn't want to hear them again. There had to be some opening: a door or a crack or crevice through the mountain's sides through which they could escape...

They searched for some time but found nothing. The humming had also stopped and apart from the rustling of their cloaks, their light footfalls, and their own echoing voices, they could hear nothing. Severus suspected the mountain was an entire labyrinth of passageways and the distant humming vibrations they had felt and heard were the noise of all of them closing, starting from the base and going right to the top of the mountain. A closure which ended here, in wing-shaped entrance to the cave.

'There's something here,' Lily said, feeling something underfoot.

Severus summoned the light and they saw some candle stubs, torn parchment and rough bedding in a corner of one of the lower levels. Lily recognised the bundle of clothes Madam Mopsy had prepared for her brother.

'This is where Mendrick lives and sleeps,' she said picking a few candle stubs and broken quills off the floor.

They were nothing special or important, but the simple mundane signs of daily living seemed strangely reassuring to her, after the unearthly events of the past hours. She felt herself relax a bit for the first time since entering the cursed mountain. She'd be more than happy if, at least, those damned voices were gone from her head, for good.

Severus tapped one of the candles with his wand and the wick burst into a small flickering flame.

'Does this hurt your eyes?' he asked, peering at her with a slight frown.

She shook her head. The gentle, warm glow of the candlelight was even softer than the bluebell flames. At the back of her mind, she wondered if she could ever look at bright sunlight again. Her brush with the Oracle's magic seemed to have left her photophobic.

Well, if they didn't find a way out of this place, bright sunlight would never ever be a problem any more...

Severus was flitting about the cavern and placing lighted candles in every one of the small holes for lamps carved into the wall. Now that she could see better, many of them already had small candles in them, and had obviously seen much use, for waxy icicles had formed where the molten wax dripped down the walls. She hadn't noticed them on her way in. This was Mendrick's main living space.

Apart from the candles, there was not even the tiniest chink of light from anywhere else. She didn't really expect there to be: the way the rock face had moved, like cold lava, it was highly likely that they were sealed inside by hundreds of feet of solid rock, and the position of the wing-shaped entrance to the cave was barely even visible. Even assuming she could cast any spell at all with her injured hand, as Severus had said, there was no spell she knew that could move a mountain.

At least, the Earth Magic seemed to have stopped. Perhaps it considered its job done, and none would get in or out of this place. She glanced at her wristwatch: it was night outside. Remus should have reached Hogwarts by now and alerted the teachers. Dumbledore would know what to do, even if this _was_ Earth Magic. He would come up with something. He _had _to.

If not...

If not, perhaps Severus would.

She glanced over to where Severus was examining the faint, wing-shaped outline of the blocked entrance, running his hands over the surface as though looking for something. He had got rid of the bluebell flames, for the cavern was now dotted with flickering candles. Their tiny flames, mere pin-points of light, seemed overwhelmed by the size and gloom of the cavern, and flickered desperately to keep from being swallowed by the dark, but they made up for that in numbers, and only the ceiling; some of the dead-end recesses, and lower split levels remained in deep shadow.

Severus knew many forms of obscure magic. 'Ancient magic' he used to call it. She had always thought it a euphemism for _Dark_ Magic, but then, after all, he had somehow managed to pull her out of that horrible Oracle chamber even while that white, incandescent light from the Oracle was hissing and flashing round them, unleashing magic that was the stuff of nightmares and blinding her into unconsciousness, (or even, for all she knew, a temporary insanity, like Mendrick's).

What would have happened to her hadn't Severus been there?

She glanced down at the blackened skin of her wrist, shuddering. The numb sensation was reaching beyond her wrist, though the twinges of pain shooting up her arm were still there. If Severus hadn't reached her on time, the damage might not have only been confined to her arm: maybe now her eyes would be bleeding, like Mendrick's...

Suppressing that horrifying image she instinctively hastened over to where Severus was still moving his hands over the smooth cold surface of the cavern walls.

'What are you doing?'

'Trying to find the weakest point. Sometimes, very strong magic leaves traces. You can feel it: a sort of tingling sensation like when you're eager to cast a spell. You can feel it all the way down your arm...'

Well, her wand arm wouldn't be feeling the tingle of magic any time soon: it felt like a useless weight at her side. But she knew what he meant.

'So you had told me once. Even on that occasion, we were in a cave.'

'The Cockatrice cave.' His eyes flickered briefly to hers, but then they went back to examining the wall.

She flushed slightly. Of course he remembered. It was a cave in the cliffs above the Irish Sea where they had found petrified skeletal remains of a Cockatrice's victims. She had persuaded Severus to join her and her parents on holiday. In that cave he had first suggested they try the strange, wandless magic that was so inherently linked to them: there wasn't even a name for it: _Legilimency of feelings,_ Severus had called it. She still remembered how terrified, yet excited, she had felt in that cave...

'So, what about finding these traces of magic?' she asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact and businesslike. The images, conjured by the memories of that other cave, were reminding her very forcefully of how she had felt then.

'Not easy to do. You need a lot of practise, but I've felt it a couple of times. If Earth Magic has the same effect, and assuming the magic is strongest where the walls are sealed thickest, then, by inference, where it's weakest-'

'The wall would be thinnest.'

He nodded. 'Or at least not so magically protected.'

He had that absorbed look of concentration on his face that Lily remembered so well. His dark eyes were alive with that driving force, that purposeful energy, that used to carry them both to such great heights of enthusiasm in the early years. Those days, their magical education was at the beginning, and for her at least, it was also completely new. Severus was the first to open her eyes to the wonders of the magical world. She felt herself transported to those early days when the odd boy with long, dark hair falling over his face, would read some spell or other out of a book, or show her where the hardiest knotgrass grew, or discuss the best ways to catch a Gillyworm... and even though, over the years, his enthusiasm had been triggered by increasingly sinister magic, Lily thought she recognised something familiar in the intense concentration of his gaze now.

'You have an idea how to get out of here.' It was a statement, not a question.

Severus turned to look at her, eyebrow raised.

'What makes you say that?'

'I know that look.'

Severus didn't answer immediately, but there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. Maybe because her words referred to a time when she knew him well. Or thought she did. She could hardly say that now, after spending a whole year determinedly looking in the other direction, even when forced, by the close proximity of shared lessons, to be in the same room with him.

How _had_ he changed?

He hadn't answered her question about being marked as a Death Eater. She thought not, but then, wasn't it just a question of time? There were so many rumours about Death Eaters: they said there was a mysterious initiation into that brotherhood, and some of the things she'd heard about _that._..

This was such a surreal situation. Trapped by ancient magic, and her own foolhardiness, in a cavern with the one person she'd never imagined she'd be talking to again – someone familiar, yet unknown – an old friend, a potential Death Eater, and...a lost love.

A faint blush rose in her cheek as she remembered that those were the last words she had whispered that night outside the Gryffindor common-room exactly before she had said goodbye. It seemed such a long time ago, now, and yet...

'Maybe...' he murmured, having gone back to tracing his hands back and forth over the wall, unaware of how closely she was observing him.

Though he had lost the lankiness of his fourth and fifth years, he remained very slender. His face was thinner, and in the candlelight, his high cheekbones made him look almost gaunt. There were times, she knew, when he would forget to eat.

And then another thought struck her: less sinister, but disquieting, nonetheless. What if, in the meantime, he had found someone else? A witch from his own house perhaps, with a more permissive attitude to Dark Magic? She thought not, but then she had been so obsessed with trying to ignore him, she could easily have missed it if he was dating someone else. She had, after all, seen him disappear in a disused classroom once with that voluptuous seventh-year Slytherin girl ... Feeling suddenly shy and uncomfortable, she shifted uneasily by his side.

She was surprised at her own reaction. Was she jealous? She had no right to be. Absolutely no right at all!

She shook herself out of her musings. 'How? You can't blast our way out of here: we're miles beneath the surface.'

'Not miles. But perhaps, I have an idea. I think this is the weakest point. At least, it's not sizzling with magic like the wing-shaped entrance. I can't feel anything here, so it may be a good place to try something ... I need more light.'

She went to fetch the candle stubs that were next to Mendrick's bedding. Placing them on the low, round, stone platform in the middle of the cavern, she attempted to light them with her wand held in her left hand. Sparks flew everywhere and her cloak almost caught fire.

'Damn!'

For a right-handed witch, casting spells with her left hand was a good as writing with her left.

She was about to try again when Severus' hand suddenly closed round her wrist, stopping her.

'Sorry,' she mumbled, 'I'm not so good with my left-'

'Show me your other hand!'

She slowly brought her right hand up, wondering at Severus' oddly pained expression. He was holding out his hand, so she placed her injured wrist in his, wincing slightly as he pushed up her sleeve to survey the damage.

She heard him swear softly as he surveyed the blackened hand.

'It's – it's ok,' she said, 'It looks worse than it feels. It's mostly just numb –'

His eyes flickered to hers as she said this, and she saw alarm there, as well as something else - something akin to guilt. He didn't let go of her hand.

'I shouldn't have let this happen,' he said, tersely, 'I should've done something sooner.'

'It's not your fault. I was too slow – I let Mendrick grab me. Anyway, I was the one to follow him there in the first place.'

'You don't understand.'

He seemed unable to go on, and his dark eyes flitted down to her hand, which he still wouldn't let go. It seemed as though they were drawn there against his will, by the sight of her disfigurement. She couldn't feel his hand around her wrist, but higher up, where his fingertips brushed her forearms; they awakened twinges of pain and a strange, tingling sensation.

'It's just numb,' she repeated 'As soon as we get out of here I'll go straight to Madam Pomfrey. She'll fix it.'

She gently withdrew her hand from his, shaking the sleeve over the darkened flesh.

'Madam Pomfrey won't know what to do.'

'Why, because the wound is caused by Earth magic?'

'No, just... Dark Magic.'

'Dark Magic?!'

'_I_ cast the spell,' Severus averted his eyes, and looked as though he felt ill, 'I - I couldn't think of anything else.'

She clutched her injured hand in her good hand, her eyes widening. Dark Magic? She looked up at Severus, but he didn't want to meet her gaze. She remembered vaguely the rush of black fire sweeping around the oracle chamber, dimming even the bright incandescence of the Oracle before she blacked out. She had seen that Black Fire before, when he was first experimenting with dark magic from his great-grandfather's book.

'Black Fire,' she said, slowly.

His eyes flickered up to hers, pain and guilt evident in their dark depths.

'It broke the connection to Mendrick and the Oracle, but it...' Severus swallowed drily '... it's Dark Magic. I did not cast it to kill, or it would've. But it will slowly destroy your magic from the inside out.'

She said nothing for a moment, as his words sank in and she realised the gravity of the spell damage. Then she took a deep steadying breath. Severus wouldn't have left it at that. He wouldn't destroy her magic. Not Severus.

'But you know a counter-curse.' She spoke with a quiet confidence.

He nodded slowly, a kind of wonder growing in his eyes. She realised then that he'd expected her to be horrified and to shun him for casting a dark magic spell on her. One of the darkest in his old book, if she remembered correctly. Her abhorrence of Dark Magic was what started the rift between them, but she wasn't as blind as he imagined. His knowledge of Dark Magic had got them out of tight spots before. Besides, as their DADA teacher had told them, in one of the very first lessons - ''_dark' magic is only magic: it is dark insofar as the uses you put it to'._

And Severus had saved her life.

'I should've told you sooner! It was unforgiveable of me to forget and risk permanent damage,' Severus was saying 'and I don't blame you for wanting to go to Madame Pomfrey, -'

'But I want _you_ to do it.'

He paused, shaking his head slightly. 'Haven't you _heard _what this magic does? It destroys your very reason for being: magic. You're too trusting, Lily'

'I trust _you._'

The simple words fell softly between them. It was true: she trusted Severus. With her life. She knew he would not let her, or her magic, die with this curse. His eyes were searching her face again with renewed wonder and something like a tentative hope. Her heart was beating faster for she recognised that exactly the same sentiment had rekindled in her own breast. It was something she shouldn't be feeling or even contemplating, and her head was _warning_ her not to, yet how could she ignore those dark eyes fixed on hers with such intensity?

Wordlessly, he held out his left hand and she placed her injured hand in his once more.

'You may want to sit down, this will hurt a bit.'

He steered her gently backwards until she felt the ledge of the flat stone dais at the back of her legs. She sat down on the low surface and Severus sank on one knee in front of her. Pointing his wand at the candle she had been unsuccessfully tried to light, a tiny flame flickered to life. Then he stuck his wand in his belt and gently pushed her sleeve further up to her elbow, to examine the damage carefully. The paleness of his long-fingered hands, clasped gently around her wrist, stood in stark contrast to the blackened flesh there. Her numb hand had turned a sickly, pale-grey colour and strange, dark veins were branching slowly up her forearm from her blackened wrist. They were the most painful, and she gave an involuntary gasp of pain as Severus fingers brushed against them. His eyes flickered up at that, the pain was mirrored in his.

'Sorry,' he murmured.

She bit her lip, determined that not another sound should escape her. That spell had saved her from a fate worse than death probably, and Severus already felt guilty enough about hurting her. He had taken out his wand and, though she could not feel anything, she could see his hand tighten around her wrist. The knuckles of his fingers were bloodied and bruised where he had hit the wall in frustration at her cold words, earlier.

As he raised his wand to point at her wrist, she put her good hand on his arm, stopping him.

'Thank you,' she said, softly.

He looked up at her in surprise.

'I never did thank you for saving my life...Sev.'

The incredulous look in his eyes turned swiftly to one of wonder as he saw that she meant it, and then, just as swiftly, into something else, as he realised what she had just called him.

After the briefest of seconds' hesitation, he looked down once more at her arm, pulled it gently so that it rested on his knee as he held it steady with his other hand. Shaking back his sleeves, he pointed the tip of his wand at her wrist and took a deep breath as he prepared to cast the counter-spell that would restore her wand arm and her magic.

She braced herself, but even at that moment, at the back of her mind, she could not resist a small thrill of pleasure when she saw that his exposed left forearm was pale white and still unblemished by that cursed Mark rumour had it all Death Eaters bore. It gave her a thrill of pleasure she knew she had no right or reason to enjoy.

Then Severus began the incantation.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Stolen Moments.**

**A/n: As promised, second part of previous chapter: 'Trapped'. It grew long enough to merit its own name.**

It was not a non-verbal spell, as she had half-expected. However, it wasn't in any language she recognised, either. There were a few words here and there that seemed vaguely familiar from her lessons on Ancient Runes, but mostly she did not understand what Severus was saying. Perhaps ancient Pictish or Gaelic. It was nothing like the harsh guttural language she had heard in the chamber, presumably because it was several eons more 'modern', still...

Only once before had she cast a spell in a similar dead language: she had joined Severus in casting that spell, their magic uniting through one wand, Combined Magic, and even then they had been in a desperate situation, hanging on to a cliff face lashed by poisoned rain from a cursed sky.

This incantation sounded similar, but the words were older, more archaic. Severus' voice, though low and hushed, still reverberated in the silence of the Raven's Cavern – there was a strange, powerful quality to it as the unknown words fell from his lips and echoed round them. She had always liked Severus' voice: it had gone deeper now, but still retained that clarity of enunciation she remembered. A golden glow was building up slowly at the tip of his wand, growing stronger with every word.

Lily wondered, at the back of her head (and not for the first time), at Severus' knowledge of ancient languages. She knew he used to study them back in their third and fourth year, but the way he _spoke_ them was as though he were a native speaker of those dead tongues. Even Clynderwen, their Ancient Runes teacher had remarked about it. She had thought, at the time, that his dabbling in ancient magic, or his contacts with doubtful characters like Madeira, had something to do with it. Or it could be just a natural aptitude, of course.

She looked intently at his face, as he kneeled before her. Bending her head slightly, for he was a bit lower than her, she tried to catch his eyes, but they were half-shut, looking down intently at her wrist. The golden glow from his wand had spread outwards and it suddenly divided into tiny, fiery comet-tails that enveloped her wrist. Her eyes widened, but she did not move. She thought she could feel a vague warmth in the deadened flesh resting on her friends' knee. Severus passed the wand tip up and down her arms in a complicated pattern, sending the golden trails interlacing around her arm like gold lace.

His voice grew stronger, and the incantation now sounded more like a song.

Suddenly, she felt them: burning fingers raking their way down her arm as the many circling golden sparks finally made contact with her skin. Their deceptively beautiful appearance held a wealth of pain hidden within their soft, firefly-like glow. Each tiny spearhead of golden light had penetrated her skin somehow, searing its way along the dark vein-like trails creeping up her arm and she gritted her teeth against the atrocious pain.

Well, at least now she could _feel_ something: even if that something was pain.

The previously numb part of her wrist was now throbbing with an agonising, stabbing pain that moved down towards her fingertips, accompanied by a golden glow that somehow shone through her skin. It was as though her skin had turned translucent. Finally, even her fingers were throbbing and she bit her lips to keep from crying out. The dark skin of her arm had turned an angry red-raw colour and it felt like someone was running red-hot pokers across her flesh and deep within.

The gold sparks were touching Severus' hand too, as it supported her own, but if they were hurting him in the same way, he did not give any sign, and his voice remained as steady as his wand.

Just when she thought she couldn't bear it any more, Severus' voice changed in tone, becoming softer, more velvety, and the golden glow around her skin faded. The fiery little sparks circling her arm changed colour to a cool blue-green, and the pain abated almost immediately.

The turquoise trailing lights circled her inflamed arm in a similar pattern, following the movement of Severus' wand, and she braced herself for more pain, but instead, there was the most wonderful, cool, soothing sensation, and she could see the skin of her arm heal and turn to its natural pale smoothness. What was more, the numbness was gone and she could _feel_!

Even as the ancient words of the lilting, song-like incantation slowly came to a halt and Severus tucked his wand into his belt, she realised that she could feel everything -the warmth of his hand supporting her wrist, the cool air of the cave on the skin of her exposed arm, the slight movement beneath her arm where it rested on his knee, and yes, even the familiar tingling of magic at her fingertips...

'You did it!' she exclaimed ecstatically, clenching and unclenching her fist.

'Don't count your dragons...' Severus answered laconically, 'Let's see if sensation has returned everywhere. Nerve damage is notoriously difficult to heal.'

She said nothing as Severus took her arm in both his hands and turned it gently over, but she couldn't suppress a big grin. She could _tell_ that she was healed. The skin of her arm had turned back to its usual white – even the small smattering of freckles there had returned. But it wasn't only her skin- she could feel the magic inside her, tingling up and down her arm, and she was finding her relief and joy hard to contain – but Severus, of course, had to do everything as methodically and meticulously as always, before he was satisfied.

'Tell me if there's any sensation of numbness anywhere,' he said, as he held her wrist with one hand and ran his thumb gently down the skin of her forearm.

There was absolutely no numbness anywhere – on the contrary, it felt as though the sensory perceptions of her skin were somewhat heightened, for as his thumb and fingertips moved slowly down her arm, she could feel every slight roughness of the tiny scars on them left by knife cuts or ingredients during potion brewing, and she felt the small calluses, caused by many hours at the mortar and pestle, whisper against her skin.

She remembered how he had once healed her hand when she had cut it with a broken bottle in his dungeon hideout: it had been a different spell and the damage was minor, but afterwards, he had run his fingers just so on her newly-healed skin, and it had awakened strange sensations in her. Then, it had scared her and she had snatched her hand away, but now...

Now, she didn't want him to stop, as those self-same sensations coursed through her veins beneath his trailing fingers. Her breath hitched as he put a gentle pressure on middle of her arm, along the pathway of the muscles and nerves most used in spell-casting. And she knew that the tingling sensations he aroused there were not entirely due to her newly-restored magical potential. Her heart was beating faster now, and she wondered whether he could feel it, for his other hand was still wrapped round her wrist.

Her eyes snapped up at his face, but Severus was still absorbed in what he was doing. His eyelids were lowered, and thick lashes, like dark smudges on his pale cheeks, shaded any expression.

With her arm resting on his knee, their faces were inches apart, and she found herself observing the face that she had once known so well. She loved Severus' eyes. She remembered how their darkness could vary from a warm chocolate-brown to a cold, emotionless black, or else darken in barely-controlled fury. The expression in them could change from one to the other in the space of a heartbeat, and it had always been a secret challenge for her to try and read his eyes.

Her eyes wandered further down his face. There were some faint bruises, probably where Mendrick had hit him, and a barely-visible darker shading of a vestigial beard around his upper lip and jawline, but otherwise, his skin was as white as she remembered: it seemed almost translucent where it was stretched taut over his cheekbones, and even in the warm light of the candle, his lips seemed paler than normal. They were nice lips though: a thin, curved, upper lip balanced by a fuller, sensitive-looking lower lip. They were half-open, his breath coming rather fast and shallow.

A mad desire to touch his lips possessed her, but one hand was still held captive in his, and he was running his fingers for the third time down her arm.

This time, however, his touch seemed to be more of a caress than an exploration of the healing process. A soft, lingering caress that somehow ended with his fingers entwined in hers. Her heart was fluttering madly in her chest, giving away her secret with every beat of her pulse beneath his hand, but she did not pull it away.

Then his eyes flickered up to hers, holding her mesmerised with a velvety-dark intensity. The candlelight was reflected like a fire in their depths, yet there was something endearingly pleading there, too. Any remnant of reason had long left her - she curled her newly-healed fingers round his and brought her other hand up to touch his face, in a way she had only done once before.

His pale skin was surprisingly warm beneath her trembling fingers and even as she felt his own hand come up to cover hers, she saw his eyes slide shut, and, with a barely perceptible sigh, he turned his head the smallest fraction into her caress, pressing his lips against the palm of her hand. The gesture brought tears to her eyes, and she leaned forward, bridging the gap between them, and pressed her lips to his.

As their lips locked together, she could feel him tremble, as though this was something he had never dreamed of...

_She_ had though – very often, in the beginning of last summer when she still entertained dreams that Severus would come back...would change his mind..._forbidden_ dreams...and this shouldn't be happening, though this was no dream... but Severus' kiss was becoming urgent and any coherent thoughts flew out of her head as she felt an answering fire build somewhere deep within her.

She had discovered immense depths of carefully-hidden emotions in Severus that even she never suspected could exist in one soul, when, during one wild moment of wandless magic on a snowy Christmas afternoon in their fifth year, that self-same soul had been hers to explore.

That was also the time when he had first kissed her.

It had been her first kiss – _their _first kiss – and then, like now, she had felt transported on a tidal wave of emotion: heart-stopping excitement, surprised joy, a willingness to share and give all of herself, and, above all and strongest of all - _love! _

She realised now, why something was always missing from all the boys that she had dated, and why their kisses were nothing like this – nothing at all. This was _Severus,_ she had know him since they were little, and she had loved him since that time, and nothing could change that, no matter how many other boys she dated, no matter how hard she tried to ignore his existence.

All this became apparent to her, in a vague, distracted way, as Severus leaned onto her, deepening the kiss. She could taste the salt of her own tears on his lips, and then she felt the heat rush to her face as his hand slipped beneath her cloak and wrapped round her, pulling her to him, supporting himself on the ledge of the dais as he pushed against her.

'Sev...' his name came out as a soft moan against his lips and he pulled back a little.

Her eyes blinked open in protest and her breath came raggedly, but the dark eyes looking down into hers now held a blazing fire that matched the one burning inside her, and suddenly, she wanted to be closer to him - closer than ever before...

She slipped her arms round his neck, her eyes never leaving his, and claimed his mouth again with hers, straining against him, as though nothing could be close enough.

_She was kissing Severus_, and Merlin, it felt _good_.

It was as though the mountain had closed everything and everyone out – there were no blood status; no school houses; no Voldemort; no war, and no unnatural complications in this cavern – there was just Severus and her, Lily Evans. This kiss, unlike the two others they had shared, was not marred by misunderstandings, revelations, or the anguish of saying goodbye... Perhaps, because they were trapped in this place alone, this kiss was different. And she couldn't help feeling that, on this infinitely simple plane of existence, this was just _meant_ to be!

Severus had pushed her back until she was lying down on the smooth surface of the low stone platform, cushioning her head with his hand, and he was lying half on top of her, surprisingly heavy for someone so slender. His hand wandered, tentatively at first, down her side, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. Then, growing more confident, she felt his hand on her flank ... then curl all the way round to the small of her back, and the curved roundness there. She arched against him, her body obeying deep instincts she was barely aware that she had. She heard his breath hitch and he pressed down on her, and there was a hunger, a _need_ in his kisses that took her breath away.

She had never imagined, even after she had discovered what he felt for her, that she could ever be kissed and touched by Severus in _this _way – perhaps because their love affair had ended before it began, and she had barely had time to realise what was between them, before they parted ways, so she'd never imagined anything beyond a kiss.

She certainly never imagined how intensely thrilling it was to feel his hands on her body like that, how the weight of him was sending sweet sensations running up and down her whole frame, for she was acutely aware of his need too - it could hardly be otherwise, with him pressed down on her like that – and she found it strangely exciting.

Severus was kissing her neck, the faint stubble on his face sending a shiver of pleasure through her hypersensitive skin. Her breathing was as fast and shallow as his, and her heart was beating fit to burst in her chest. She was dizzy with longing... with a yearning to give, to hold, to share everything with Severus.

But he was saying something...

'L- Lily...' his voice was thick, almost incoherent, and he had pulled away, propping himself up on his arms. 'Perhaps I ... we... shouldn't... '

She gazed up at him in bewilderment for a second, and then started to shake her head slowly.

'You've been through hell barely an hour ago –' he started. 'This isn't the right time...'

'There is no right or wrong time, Sev, there's only _now_.'

She said this a trifle sadly for she knew that there were a myriad other issues and complications, each one hammering at the edge of her consciousness. They had been relegated to a far-away place, beyond the impregnable mountain side they found themselves trapped in. Those complications would not be able to come in.

For now.

She sighed and closed her eyes, already missing the warmth of Severus' arms around her. But it was a mistake. Something flashed before her eyes- a vision of something that made her sit upright with a guilty start.

'What is it?' Severus rolled off her and looked at her face anxiously.

'N- nothing.'

'The visions again?'

'No –' she saw him look at her quizzically, and gave a resigned smile. 'Well, yes. Something's not quite right with this bed.'

His eyebrows went up and he looked at her steadily for a minute, his lips twitching upwards.

'You just called this stone, a 'bed',' he said, finally.

'Oh.' She felt herself flush a little.

'I thought it was a sacrificial altar, or a mortuary slab for the burials here.'

She shook her head. 'No, it was covered in skins, and there _were_ bodies on it, but they weren't dead. They were very much alive, in fact, they were...'

But she couldn't continue, and instead she stood up walking some distance away from the 'bed.' It had been a very powerful vision, and what she had seen was making her blush.

'They were what?' Severus asked.

His pale cheeks were flushed and he seemed reluctant to get up from the stone platform.

'They were ... engaged in what I can only presume to be Fertility Rituals,' she said finally, not quite meeting his eyes, and certain now that her face was as glowing red as her hair. 'Mendrick mentioned them'.

She had never seen anyone naked – male or female - and the intertwined bodies, in that flash from the cavern's past, had not only been naked, but very explicitly,( and in ways she had never imagined), making love. She felt 'copulating' might be a better word to describe what she saw.

'You mean an orgy?' Severus got up finally, eyeing the stone dais with some distaste, but his eyes were laughing as he turned to survey her discomfort. 'Perhaps that's hardly surprising you saw that, considering...'

She dug her elbow in his ribs with a shy smile. 'I wasn't the only one lying there. Anyway, what do you know about orgies? Wait – don't tell me,' she held up her hand 'I don't think I want to know...'

He grabbed hold of her outstretched hand and pulled her to him with a confidence she had never seen him show before.

'I'm not interested in orgies,' he murmured in her ear as she melted thankfully into his arms. 'Present-day or prehistoric ones. I'm only interested in you, and for a moment there, I thought...'

'What?'

Her voice was muffled, for she had buried her face in Severus' chest and screwed her eyes shut, for the niggling voice of reason was hammering to be let into her consciousness, and she didn't want to listen. Not right now. Instead, she listened to the steady drum of Severus' heart, still as fast-paced as her own. His arms were around her protectively, his cloak enveloping them both in a cocoon of dark warmth, but he hadn't answered her.

'Thought what?' she repeated.

She felt him stiffen slightly. 'I thought... I thought I'd disgusted you, or...or something, when you jumped up. Perhaps I was too rough –'

'You _serious?!_'

She looked up into his face incredulously, but in spite of his confidence a moment before, there was insecurity there now. A glimpse of the youth he still was, through the man he was becoming. The flush on his face deepened slightly, as she continued to gaze at him, while a slow smile spread across her face.

'I'll take it that you're not mad at me, then?' he said, finally.

'Mad at you?! Severus Snape – if _that's_ the way you kiss a girl...'

'That way -What way?' he asked, with an innocent look.

'You know what I mean,' she muttered, lowering her eyes.

'Sort of. I was hoping for a re-demonstration: I wasn't thinking clearly at the time...'

She looked up to see him smiling at her.

'Neither was I,' she said, with an answering smile.

It was so rare to see Severus smiling so unguardedly. But the doubts and fears that she was determinedly trying to push from her mind were becoming more insistent.

'Neither was I...' she repeated softly, tracing her finger along the silver 'S' of the Slytherin badge on his chest and a small sigh escaped her.

She was still amazed at how easily they had slipped into the teasing familiarity they had been so comfortable with in the past, even after a whole year of not speaking to each other: that familiarity had always been tinged with the edge of something stronger - something exciting that never grew stale. She had thought, in the beginning, that being embroiled in dangerous adventures had something to do with it, but now she knew it was something innate in their relationship. And at this very moment, the familiarity of years of knowing each other, coupled with that strange excitement, now grown into an irresistible force, had taken their relationship to a different level altogether.

She felt strangely complete here with Severus in this candlelit cave: there was a sense of relief in finally being able to physically express what had been burning inside them for so many years; there was the thrill of discovery, as well as a certain shyness; there was breathless trepidation, as well as tender feelings of love; and threading through all these emotions was the edge of fear. All this was making these few stolen moments so precious.

But they were stolen nonetheless...

'I wish we could stay in here forever!' she said impulsively, not take her eyes off her finger, which was still making undulating patterns on the intertwined silver Snake and 'S' symbols of his Slytherin badge.

'I thought you would've been eager to see the last of this place.'

Yet even as he said this, his arms tightened slightly around her, as though he were afraid she'd suddenly disappear.

'I think you know what I mean,' she muttered 'Of this place, yes, but...'

_But not of you._

She looked up at him finally, and the troubled look in his eyes told her he knew what she wanted to say.

'I will never leave you, Lily,' he said, simply 'I never wanted to, remember?'

She gazed into his eyes for a moment without speaking. No, he hadn't. _She_ was the one who had. But she had had no choice. He had chosen Voldemort over her and that was one path she could not follow him down, without becoming unrecognisable even to herself. The words of a conversation in the dark corridor outside Gryffindor common-room intruded on her mind, and her throat constricted painfully as something heavy seemed to settle in her chest.

She shook her head slowly, blinking back the tears and hung her head.

'Last summer... I thought it would never end. It was...' she searched for a word, but nothing described the bleakness of those days well enough, '...I didn't know what to do with myself. And back at school, it was infinitely worse. I thought ignoring you would work...' she looked up at him again, 'I'm sorry I hurt you, Sev, I didn't know what to do...' She hung her head again, 'I still don't.'

But she felt Severus hand, cupping her face, tilting her chin up so that she looked at him.

'But _I_ do. You've got to trust me, Lily. I – I can find a way. Besides, I think I'm as attached to you as a Griffin to its treasure. I can't help it.' He gave a wry smile, his fingers gently pushing a strand of hair out of her face 'That's why I'm here tonight. D'you think I could just stand by and let that Mendrick - or anyone else - hurt you? If they so much as dare touch a hair of your head, I'd turn their miserable bodies inside out for them, I'd curse their –'

But she cut off the familiar litany of his threats by standing on tiptoe and kissing him fervidly. This time he was quick to respond, and she let herself go, losing herself in the passion of his kiss.

'H – hold me, Sev. Just - just hold me!' she whispered, finally.

She wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted to stop thinking. She wanted to stay like that forever, where the demons waiting outside this mountain would not find them.

What would happen now? Severus had risked his life and more for her by coming here tonight. But was she deceiving herself in thinking this would change anything? Would he give up Voldemort?

After this, she had to believe he could turn back. This was a taste of what it would be like if they were together – _really_ together, as boyfriend and girlfriend, and it was wonderful.

There was a soft sound of indrawn breath and she felt Severus stiffen. Disengaging herself slowly from his arms she turned round to see what he was looking at. At the back of the cave two or three of the lit candles had been blown out. One of them was still had white smoke rising straight upwards in lazy circles from the still-glowing wick.

'Who did that?' she whispered.

'Nobody. I just saw it go out.' Severus replied, looking with a frown at the niches that held the candles 'The other two have been out for some time. We didn't notice.'

'Lack of oxygen, perhaps?'

'Perhaps. But even if the cave is sealed airtight, I think the air should last a bit longer, it's a big cave.'

Lily looked at the guttered candles, a sense of foreboding washing over her.

'D'you think the Earth Magic is still working? Or the ghosts of this place?'

'Well, apparently you're still having visions.'

'They weren't bloodthirsty ones.'

'Ok, so your last visions were more on the 'make love not war' line, but I still think you'll be better off out of this place.'

'I was just getting used to it-' she said with a rueful smile at the flat, stone 'bed'. Severus did not miss her meaning.

'Don't worry. We'll talk outside,' he said.

'Agreed. I don't want to start hearing voices again. You were about to explain your idea before I...before we –'

'Got distracted.'

'Well, now would be a great time to try it out.' She pointed to another candle that just guttered and went out. There was an edge of anxiety to her voice.

'The simple Confringo Curse,' Severus said, as he lighted his wand and shone the light at a point to the side of the sealed winged shape on the wall that had once been the tunnel that led to the outside of the cave. She found she could tolerate the wandlight much better now. 'At the level of those shallow fissures there, and at an angle of 45 degrees, because we don't want to risk a cave-in, but it should cause enough damage to open a small passage to the outside.'

'But the Confringo Curse alone isn't enough to blast through all that...! _Oh_.'

Suddenly she realised what Severus had in mind. Alone, the Blasting Curse had no hope of going through a whole mountain side, but when its power was enhanced by a kind of magic only they possessed...

'Our Combined Magic' she whispered, 'Of course. D'you - d'you think it still works?'

Severus looked at her quietly, then held out his hand. 'Do you have any doubts?'

She took his hand. 'No.'

'After all we have _Compatible magical energy and synchronicity of bonded souls_, remember?' she smiled as she quoted from the old book that had first hypothesised about their strange gift back in their Fourth year.

'I remember the link with Merlin and Nimue,' Severus said as he led her to a clear spot some distance away from the cavern wall where they would be out if the way of falling debris, 'And for the record, I look nothing like Merlin, even though he was a Slytherin.'

'I'm sure Merlin wasn't always white-bearded and old, Severus. Nimue must've seen something in him that made her fall in love with him.'

His eyes flickered on to her as they stood facing each other in the dim light of the cavern, but she just smiled.

'Ok, I would say we could use the wand position and movement of the _Obstruere_ spell,' he started, 'That means the wand in vertical alignment and-'

'I know, Severus. _I_ taught you that Sealing Spell for your dungeon door.' She took out her wand.

Severus said nothing but took hold of both her hands, so that they now stood facing each other clutching their wands, the right hand of one in left hand of the other. Then he leaned forward:

'By the way, it _does _still work' he whispered, 'It will let no-one in, but you or I.'

'Is that an invitation, Severus Snape?'

'Of course.'

She smiled warmly at him, drawing closer. Merlin, she couldn't help it! Nor could she help getting her hopes up...

'You know it is extremely distracting, and non-conductive to casting Blasting Curses, when you look at me that way...' he said, drawing closer, his breath fanning her cheek.

'You should have kissed me then, back when we first cast the _Obstruere_ spell on that door.'

'You would've hexed me.'

'I would've been surprised – _pleasantly_ surprised, I think, and there would've been more time for ...this.'

''This' is supposed to be a Confringo Curse. Anyway, how did you know I wanted to kiss you then?'

'I didn't. Just intuition in hindsight. And your admission right now'

She smirked at his disgruntled look. But another two candles had gone out and the cave got much dimmer.

'Shall we?' Severus said, with a quick look at the guttering candles.

She nodded, stifling a small sigh, for she felt she was clinging with all her strength to the last remnants of time alone in here. Outside, there would be a return to life at Hogwarts, possibly with detention and stripped of her Prefect badge, if Remus had alerted the teachers.

Still, that was a small price to pay if somehow she could have Severus back – If he could change his path for her – for _them both_. But would he? She hadn't dared ask again.

She looked up at him as they both lifted their wand in a vertical position. He was bending slightly over her to accommodate her shorter height. His face was already in shadow in the dimming light of the cave, but his eyes still held the warmth from before and they were looking at her steadily. She was already feeling the pulsing of magic deep within her core as they gathered the energy around them and inside them, in preparation for the Blasting Curse. Then, with a sweeping movement, they brought the wands arching around and forward. She felt the wave of energy sweep through her and then, powerful and burning hot, down both her arms, emanating as a dazzling beam from the tips of their wands.

There was a deafening sound as their spell hit the age-worn walls of the cavern. To her amazement, even the stone itself glowed lava-red for a split second then exploded in a shower of dust and debris, the roar of falling stone echoing loudly around them . They staggered backwards and when the dust had cleared there was a narrow, dark tunnel in the cavern wall above a pile of rubble.

'We did it!' Lily felt ecstatic – not only because they had managed to blow a big, black hole right through the mountain peak but because their unusual magical gift still worked.

'Let's move,' Severus was saying, climbing up the pile of stones 'there's no telling if or when this bloody mountain will find out we've blown a hole through its side!'

She followed and then took his hand so that he pulled her through the gaping hole. It was wide where their magic had hit hardest and closest, but as they moved through it became narrower, forcing them to crawl on their hands and knees. The stony rubble was still hot in places from the force of their blast. They were in complete darkness now, for they had left the dim cavern behind them and outside was night. It was more than a quarter of an hour later that they saw a dim silvery light at the end of the tunnel.

'Almost full moon tonight,' Severus said.

But Lily didn't answer him. She was feeling it again - that deep vibration within the mountain. She felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise.

'Sev!'

'The mountain - It must have felt the damage somehow. It will try and repair it. We've got to get the hell out of here!'

They scrambled forwards desperately, grazing their hands and knees on the sharp rocks. As they got closer to the light, the distant hum was drowned out by another sound: they recognised it as the rumbling and rolling of thunder and what they had taken to be the light of the moon was the fitful flashing of lightning. There was a storm outside.

'Just a few more yards!' Severus shouted over the cacophony as the jagged opening ahead was illuminated by another flash, 'We'll soon be out of here!'

Then just as they reached the opening and could finally breathe in the cold, electrified night air, the ground gave way beneath their feet. They were suddenly cast out into the open, lashed by wind and rain as they tumbled forwards and downwards. Lily shrieked, her voice drowned by the noise of the storm, as the landslide carried her onwards. She didn't know what happened – whether it was the mountain closing, a lightning strike, or just simply the rubble caused by their Blasting Curse becoming mud and giving way due to rain.

Gathering her wits about her, she cast a Cushioning Charm which saved her from the worst of the blows and soon she came to a juddering halt in the middle amidst some high boulders. Another lightening flash revealed Severus some way ahead, already getting to his feet and looking round for her. She raised her hand to get his attention before the light was gone. At least, Severus was unhurt, and though she knew she'd have some lovely black-and-blue bruises all over her body tomorrow, she seemed largely uninjured.

She was about to light her wand and to guide him when another lightning flash revealed Severus standing over her, his hair and cloak glistening wet with the rain. He threw himself down on his knees beside her, his face stark white in the lightning and put his hand on her arm.

'Don't!' he whispered savagely, before they were plunged into darkness once more.

And then she heard the sound of voices in the distance, a mere mumble drowned out by the noise of the storm. One voice, however, rang out sharply- a voice she recognised from her nightmares: it was high, cold and commanding, its timbre somehow penetrating clearly even through the rolling thunder:

Voldemort!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**: **The Stone Circle.**

She froze.

No... it couldn't be!

Not now... not _here_! Severus had let go of her hand and in the next flash of lighting she saw him peering over some large stone boulders. She scrambled up near him, wedging herself between two of the large stones. Her heart was now thumping wildly in her chest – hadn't this night revealed enough horrors? Why Voldemort, the worst of them all?!

She pushed her sodden hair out of her eyes, squinting against the rain. She didn't have to wait for another lightning to illuminate the scene however. Barely a hundred feet away, down the sloping ground beneath the craggy peak of Ben Cόrhveinn, seven large boulders, like the ones she was wedged between, were glowing eerily blue with a light of their own. Her eyes, newly accustomed to the ancient magic within the mountain, recognised them now for what they were - not random boulders as she had first thought before she entered the cave, but Standing Stones, markers of old magic. However, her eyes were drawn magnetically to something even more imposing - one very tall wizard in dark robes stood in the pale blue fluorescence cast by the stones.

Lord Voldemort was pacing slowly within the roughly circular space outlined by the stones and his white skull-face was looking down at something or someone huddled in a black heap at his feet. The Dark Wizard hadn't noticed their spectacular eruption from the mountain peak and subsequent landslide. He had probably thought it a lightning strike, for the storm was loud and violent enough.

Lily had only seen Voldemort once in the flesh and on that occasion, like now, it was in a storm, but he had been _controlling_ that storm then and sending cursed clouds ahead to mask the presence of an invading army of giants along the northwest coast of England.

Voldemort had a gliding walk, looking like a black ghost among those pale sentinels of stone around him, and somehow, even the rain seemed to avoid him, for his robes were dry. Whoever was at his feet was half hidden by the menhirs.

A cold dread crept over Lily at what she might witness, for Voldemort was circling the unfortunate witch or wizard, much like a serpent its prey. She saw Severus next to her, face ashen white and frozen in an expression of fear.

This scared her even more than seeing Voldemort.

At the back of her mind, a niggling doubt was fighting to make its voice heard: did Severus have anything to do with the dark wizard's presence here? Judging by his expression, she thought not. He was grasping his wand in a white-knuckled grip, and beneath the many rats-tails of dark hair plastered to his face, his eyes were fixed on Voldemort in intense concentration.

'Who's he talking to?' she whispered.

Severus shook his head. The black heap on the ground struggled, but did not, or could not, get up.

'...your name?' The high, clear voice came to them.

The dark bundle writhed futilely and they heard a strangulated cry - or perhaps it was an answer, for the next moment, Voldemort laughed - a chill sound that sent shivers down her spine.

'Ah yes,' he said 'Fenrir told me about you. He knew your father well, Remus Lupin'.

_Remus!?_

A cold stab of fear froze her to the spot. _Remus _at Voldemort's feet!? She had thought he'd got away. The remaining colour drained from her face. She knew Remus hated Voldemort with a passion. And so close to the full moon, he'd be unreasonably aggressive- he'd get himself tortured, or worse.

And he was up on this mountain _because of her_! This was all her fault!

She had to _do_ something!

She pushed herself up, clutching her wand in readiness, wild ideas forming in her head, but Severus had anticipated her. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, pushing her back down again.

'What the hell d'you think you're doing?!' he hissed angrily.

'That's Remus! We ve got to do something! You-know-who's alone. We – we can take him by surprise-'

'You don't know what you're saying! That's the greatest Dark Wizard of all times – you can't surprise _him_!'

Ragged sounds of screaming reached them above the rolling thunder. Remus was being Crucio'd!

'I'm not going to stand by and let Remus be tortured!' she whispered vehemently at the dark shadowy figure kneeling at her side.

'Fuck Lupin! It's not _him_ I'm worried about! Stay here and don't move – I'm going to the Dark Lord.'

Forked lightning jagged its way horizontally across the night sky as he stood up, illuminating his white, determined face. No – no, that wasn't what she had in mind. She didn't even _know_ what she had in mind – except perhaps, that their _combined_ magic might surprise even someone like Voldemort, and give them an advantage mere students would not usually possess. But she realised she had just asked him to attack someone he still evidently admired. She had thought, back in the cave that maybe, just maybe, he'd have thought differently...

'No! No, Sev – don't go to him! Not -not now,' she stammered, as she grabbed his hand, '_Please!'_

She felt him hesitate for a split second, as they were plunged once more into darkness, but Voldemort's voice reached them once more:

'Who tied you up?' the high, cold voice was asking.

Then she felt Severus' hand twist out of hers.

'Stay here!' he said.

The next flash of revealed that he was no longer there. A feeling of emptiness washed over her and she slumped back against the two rocks, a sense of disillusionment overcoming her previous wild and frantic impulses. Why did he have to go to him?

She leaned between the two stones the wand in her hand shaking uncontrollably.

Perhaps Severus had an idea how to get them all out of this mess – perhaps he had gone to plead with Voldemort for Remus' life. Given his words, she didn't think so, but she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. She had to. Yet it felt so wrong for her to accept even this kind of indirect liaison with Voldemort.

She pointed her wand at the distant figure of Voldemort, but now she couldn't do anything without risking Sev's life. And anyway, the wand in her hand was shaking so much, she didn't think she could aim properly.

'I will ask you one last time, Remus Lupin, to tell me of your own free will...' Voldemort's face shone pale blue as he looked down at the feebly-moving bundle at his feet, 'who tied you up?'

'Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you!' Remus' voice came to her.

He sounded in pain, but defiant.

'Oh yes, you will,' Voldemort retorted coldly, but at that moment something or someone made the dark wizard look up.

For a moment, Lily couldn't see or hear anything but then:

'I did, My Lord, and I have his wand.'

Severus stood on higher ground some ten yards away from the glowing stones, the fluorescence barely revealing his dark-cloaked figure. He was holding a wand by its shaft: Remus' wand.

Lily froze at his words .What had he just said? The rain was now a steady drizzle, cold and relentless, but it felt nothing like the chill shock that had benumbed her mind.

Voldemort had turned to the dark figure beyond the stones and Lily caught a glimpse of movement from further down the slope where the hooded figure of a Death Eater she hadn't noticed before moved forwards, wand at the ready. But Voldemort held up his hand and the Death Eater became still, melting into the darkness beyond the circle of monoliths.

'Severus Snape,' Voldemort said, with an unpleasant sibilant hiss to the name, 'I was wondering when you'd emerge from where you were hiding.'

'You knew I was here, my Lord?' Severus sounded just mildly curious.

'I know this place of old, Severus, and I don't trust it, just as it does not trust me. I knew _someone_ was hiding here... but I did not expect _you.'_

With a flick of his wand the two stones closest to Severus dimmed slightly and Voldemort wordlessly beckoned him within the rough circle formed by the seven standing stones. Lily realised they must have been bewitched to produce some sort of protective charm. She should have realised Voldemort wouldn't just have the stones glowing like that for aesthetic purposes. Any curse or hex fired at them would bounce off. She lowered her wand in defeat and strained to see against the rain, which had now become just a steady drizzle.

It felt just as though Voldemort had invited Severus into a trap somehow. Remus struggled awkwardly to his knees as Severus came close, growling something beneath his breath that Severus ignored. She could see now that Remus had been bound by an _Incarcerous_ spell. His face, above the coils of rope and beneath the splattering of mud, was rabidly furious as the Slytherin walked past.

Severus' face, however, though still very pale, had lost that rigid look of shock and fear, and looked almost composed, even though Voldemort was practically breathing down his neck now. Lily could not help but notice the familiarity with which Voldemort had addressed him. With a sinking feeling, she thought she ought not to have been surprised.

'Well, Severus – I don't see you for a year , then you turn up on Ben Cόrhveinn in the middle of a storm,' Voldemort said, pacing softly between the two boys 'And I'm referring to the magical storm here, not the thunder and lightning... _Earth_ Magic, Severus...'

'So you know about it, My Lord?' the surprise in Severus' voice was not feigned, if feigning he really was- at this point, Lily didn't know what to think anymore. The thunder and rain had lessened to point where she could hear what was being said.

Voldemort gave a humourless laugh. 'Of course I know about it. Even though the mountain distrusts me, and has never allowed me in, I placed enchantments around this place to let me know should it awaken, as old writings allege it does. And tonight it has.' Voldemort stopped pacing to stand in front of Severus, a smile stretching his thin lips, 'I make it my business to know about ancient or powerful magic. You should know that, Severus, for you and I share that passion... as did your Great-grandfather before you. I worship magic, in all its infinite variety and myriad forms...but now tell me,' Voldemort's thin smile disappeared from his skull-like face 'Why did you tie up young Lupin here?'

Severus glanced down at the mud-spattered dishevelled young Gryffindor dispassionately, and then turned to Voldemort.

'I discovered a plot, my Lord – a plot to stop the progression of the War.'

Lily could feel, in a disembodied way, the rain dripping ceaselessly down her face, the chill night air that penetrated right through her wet clothes, but something else was freezing her from the inside out... Something broke within her, and she felt numb with shock, her brain refusing to process the words she had just heard, even though their meaning was amply clear.

'A plot, Severus?' Voldemort's voice was as brittle as ice.

'You vile, treacherous, piece of Slytherin filth!' Remus voice was hoarse and strangulated in helpless rage.

'Shut your mouth, Lupin!' For the first time, Severus betrayed anger.

Remus struggled fiercely against the ropes binding him, his face, even in the faint blue light was twisted in fury: 'You bloody bastard! How could you do this to-!'

'_Stupify_!' there was a flash of red light and Remus Lupin toppled over, stunned.

Severus was breathing hard, his face contorted with anger, and he still held Remus' own wand pointing at the now-still figure of the Gryffindor prefect.

Lily found herself on her feet, teetering on the brink of just bursting out of hiding and down the slope. _Severus had just stunned Remus!_ She stood indecisively between the two stones, the drip, drip, drip of cold rain down her face mingling with trickling tears she hadn't even noticed she was crying. How could she trust Severus now?

But it was probably the Slytherin's long indoctrination about thinking before acting that stopped her from rushing down the mountainside. After all, what could she do if they were all within the magical protection of the stones?

Perhaps if she remained hidden long enough, a chance would present itself. She had to _focus _– and rise above the tide of disillusionment that was threatening to overwhelm her.

'That is enough, Severus!' Voldemort warned, and Severus was slammed back against one of the stones, even though Voldemort hadn't as much as lifted his wand. 'Control your temper in my presence or I may be forced to think you had other reasons for stunning Lupin. After all, I'm still rather perplexed as to what a Gryffindor Prefect was doing staggering down this mountain side trussed up with an _Incarcerous _spell. Did he escape you, Severus?' The tone of Voldemorts' voice was coldly sarcastic.

'I overheard Lupin saying he was coming here. What he said about ancient magic intrigued me and I followed him to the cave. That's where I heard of the existence of a plot. I – I stunned Lupin, but he must've come round while I went back to an inner chamber. The Earth Magic you spoke of, my Lord, had awakened in there and the whole place was alive with it – doors were shifting and closing. It took me a while to find my way to where I left Lupin, and by then he was gone. I barely made it myself to get out of the mountain.'

Lily couldn't help but notice that Severus had very carefully omitted her name.

He was protecting her.

'Really, Severus? Plausible enough, though I still can't understand why this mountain has always refused me entrance and yet allows two schoolboys in. But perhaps it is time I see the truth for myself. I have been gentle when invading your mind before, Severus, but now I'm afraid I need to dig deep – _Legilimens!'_

This time Voldemort _did_ point his wand at Severus, who stiffened and grimaced in pain. Lily gasped –_invading your mind_?! So this was Legilimency!

Beneath the long, wet curtains of dark hair, Severus' face was white and screwed up in agony and he slid some way down the stone, as though his legs were giving way. She tried to control her ragged breathing. She didn't know Legilimency could be painful. What would Voldemort see in Severus' mind? The idea that he could so ruthlessly ravage someone's mind revolted her. But what could she do to stop him?

Then she remembered that Severus knew both Legilimency and Occlumency. He had learnt both from that sinister old witch, Madeira – but would it be enough when facing Voldemort?

Then suddenly it was over. Voldemort slowly moved his wand away from Severus's left temple and Severus slumped forward, as though released from an invisible grasp. A dark trail of blood trickled from his nose and he swayed slightly. Steadying himself with one hand on the stone, he wiped the nosebleed with his sleeve and straightened up, looking at Voldemort. Lily could see no expression – either of resentment or fear, and his dark eyes were more cold and blank than she had ever seen them before.

She, however, was fully expecting Voldemort to turn round and call her name – Severus could hardly have withstood such an onslaught on his mind, but Voldemort's next words surprised her:

'So you told the truth, Severus. I regret being so brutal, but I find these circumstances highly suspicious.' Voldemort looked down at the still form of Remus 'However, it seems you are not lying, and Remus Lupin was alone when he entered the Cave. But he met someone there – someone I know of old – Mendrick! Tell me, Severus, did you understand the Oracles' words?'

Severus wiped the last trickle of blood from his face. 'No, my Lord, I was hoping _you_ would.'

Lily blanched. Severus had somehow managed to keep her presence a secret – he had said, the night they had found Madeira's corpse, that the scarred old witch had taught him Occlumency rather than Legilimency. At the time, it was the latter doubtful skill that had remained impressed in her mind. Apparently, however, Occlumency had stood him in good stead, for Voldemort was unaware she was looking down on all of them.

She had to give Severus credit for that at least - but he had let Voldemort see the Oracle.

Did he intend to? The word 'betrayal' floated, unbidden, to her mind.

'Much as I appreciate your confidence in my omniscience,' Voldemort was saying with a smile, 'Earth language is dead tongue that even I am not familiar with. I'm sorry I had to invade your mind so roughly this time, Severus, but as you rightly suspected, the Oracle _did _speak of a way to stop the war. It must have. Knowing through whom the words of the Oracle were spoken, it is highly likely that it could give rise to a plot against our cause. '

'The war could stop simply because it is won, my Lord. You're sure to be victorious given the huge support –'

'That reasoning is too simplistic! The Oracle hasn't spoken this way in decades. It wouldn't, unless what it says could alter the course of world events.'

'So it predicts the future?'

'Only if you believe in it, Severus,' Voldemort's red eyes narrowed 'And only if you understand what it says. You are, I believe, familiar with the notorious ambiguity of Oracles? The ancient ones at Didyma and the Dakhma Oasis are the most famous.'

Severus nodded.

'Oracles are stores of ancient knowledge –' Voldemort spoke softly as though to himself, and Lily struggled to hear what he was saying '... like an enormous pensieve of collective memory, they can be used to fathom out solutions to problems both old and new, but besides that, some Oracles were created at the point where earth is at its oldest. Here, both earth and time were warped together in unusual ways during the earth's creation, and at this point, past, present and future can be glimpsed by the Custodians of the Oracle, who then attempt to decipher what they have seen...Such a point is here, beneath Ben Cόrhveinn.'

Voldemort's skull-like head twisted round to look at the rain-soaked bare rock of the peak towering above them.

'The mountain never allowed me in,' Voldemort continued, turning back to Severus, 'but its power always fascinated me. Much like your Combined Magic, Severus. I heard you heard you had a falling out with your red-headed muggleborn friend.'

For the first time since he entered that circle of stones, Severus looked scared. But Voldemort's sudden change of subject re-opened still-bleeding wounds in her heart, and the hurt was fast turning into anger. She had always suspected, ever since she had seen the memory trapped in the pendant, that Severus had told Voldemort about their secret magical gift, but hearing it confirmed by Voldemort himself prodded a wound that had never healed, and unequivocally pointed out that she was nothing more than a sacrificial pawn offered up in the interest of their bloody 'cause'!

She shook her wet hair out of her face, narrowing her eyes angrily at the wizards within the stone circle. She could have forgiven Severus for calling her mudblood, she could have forgiven him trying to get her to join the Death Eaters, but she could never forgive him for giving away their secret magical gift to Voldemort – especially since the reason behind it could be nothing else but that their rare gift was to be used as a weapon.

'My Lord, I can offer you something much better,' Severus was saying.

He had his head bent, and he spoke slowly yet with determination.

'And what is that, my young Slytherin?' Voldemort's voice betrayed no outright anger, yet his tone was brittle.

'My skills and my loyalty.'

Severus looked up at the tall wizard as he said this and Lily could not detect the slightest faltering or hesitation in his voice.

'Indeed, that is a precious gift you are offering me, Severus. Even as a student I have seen proof of your skills already, But as for your loyalty... I think you may need a bit more time to ensure you know what that entails. Loyalty will be proved under fire. I'm sure you will one day find out, for you aim high, and will not be content with crumbs off the magical table.'

'I know you have striven and fought tooth and claw for every inch that you gained in the magical world, Severus – I am not belittling what you have offered, but you are yet young and unproven. Besides, I do not intend that you should give up on that muggleborn witch. Not now. Not when the time is fast approaching when you are both out of Hogwarts' protective walls, and can be so useful fighting on our –'

Voldemort broke off, and his red eyes within the dark deep sockets snapped upwards, focussing on a point beyond the stone circle.

'But there is someone else here – someone hostile ...' he said, his thin nostrils flaring as though he could actually smell that someone.

'Someone else, my Lord?' Severus' face was white and still, barely moving, but she imagined that she saw him glance in her direction behind Voldemort's back.

'Yes. I know more than _Homenum revelio_ spells to reveal intrusions,' Voldemort was saying sweeping his eyes across the darkness beyond the glowing stones. Lily could see the silent Death Eater beyond the circle move in answer to Voldemort's warning.

Lily moved shakily from behind the stone and rubble. Apparently, Voldemort could somehow sense the presence of others, or else cast a non-verbal _homenum revelio_ spell that had more far-reaching detection limits. She thought she might be just outside that limit, but she couldn't be sure. Well, if they found her, she was going to die fighting. Perhaps this was her destiny. Perhaps that is why she was supposed to have come to Ben Cόrhveinn, perhaps this is what the Oracle meant when it said it had to be her. Voldemort was ruining everything she loved about the magical world – every_one_ she loved, and she was going to do her damnedest to stop it!

But suddenly she saw what Voldemort had already noticed before she had. Someone staggered into the faint blue light cast by the stones on the surrounding mountainside – and she knew who that someone was – _Mendrick!_

With white hair streaming down his back, eyes wide and staring, and blood-streaks running down his face, rendered even more profuse by the rain, Mendrick appeared even more insane than before. He approached the stones jerkily, his rain-sodden rags adding to his bizarre appearance, and he was shouting in his harsh, dry voice:

'The mountain felt your presence, Voldemort – it sealed itself against you -_Again_!'

Voldemort did not appear unduly alarmed or even surprised. At his signal, the hooded Death Eater fell back into the shadows once more and Voldemort eyed the approaching wizard with contempt.

'Ah, Mendrick - Cassandra's brilliant last pupil and self-proclaimed Oracle Custodian and seer... I've been expecting you. Yes, indeed, the Mountain felt my presence and sealed itself, but my own enchantments tell me it had been awake for _hours_ before I came here. And you are just the right wizard to tell me what happened...'

'You will learn nothing from me! I come to warn you – your time in this world is like a comet: bound to rise high but destined to a fiery end!'

Mendrick stopped just outside the circle of stone.

'On the contrary, I think I will rise like star, and like a star, shine forever. But enough with the astronomy analogies-' Voldemort's tone now had a definite snap of irritation to it, ' I'm interested in establishing what a wizard like you has learnt from the Oracle...if wizard you still are,' Voldemort's thin bloodless lips twisted with scorn, 'I see you do not even bother with a wand anymore.'

'Earth Magic needs no wand, Voldemort!'

And with that Mendrick stepped forward and slapped his hands, fingers splayed, on two of the nearest standing stones. They glowed briefly incandescent then dimmed, their blue light fading completely until they looked nothing more remarkable than large, upright, boulders.

Voldemort looked momentarily surprised, but even as Severus brought his wand up to point at Mendrick, a thick, black smoke rope or snake had issued from Voldemort's wand and wrapped itself around Mendrick's torso and neck, pulling him to his knees.

'Perhaps my magic _is_ as extraordinary as the Earth Magic you have so obviously imbued, Mendrick!' Voldemort hissed angrily.

The old wizard did not reply, but grunted as he struggled against the deceptively-insubstantial black smoke twisting around him. Then he gave up struggling and looked up at Voldemort defiantly, blood-stained eyes giving him a demonic look.

The tall, dark wizard approached the kneeling Mendrick with a slow, predatory smile, staring down at him silently and fixedly. For some reason, this seemed to alarm Severus for he leapt forward and said:

'My Lord, he's _mad _! You can't count on what you see –!'

It took Lily some time to realise that Voldemort was trying to read Mendrick's mind, for the dark wizard hadn't even raised his voice, or uttered the Legilimency incantation.

But an exclamation of pain and anger escaped Voldemort's lips, and he staggered slightly backwards, his long spider-like hands flying to his head. An expression of fury then swept over the skull-like face and with a whip-like movement of his wand, he sent Mendrick flying sideways into one of the extinguished stones.

'You're right. His brain is seething with that incomprehensible Earth Magic, and his mind is shared with that of the ancient ones that guarded the Oracle. He's been possessed too often...'

Voldemort was breathing heavily through his slit-like nostrils, looking with hatred at Mendrick as he struggled, swaying, to his feet, for the black smoke snake around him had dissipated. The effort drained the wretched wizard however, and soon he sank back down on the sodden ground, where he lay blank-eyed and twitching.

Lily felt the prickle of the anxiety she had felt in the cavern, return, with the talk of possession.

'Ancient magic absorbs knowledge as much as it imparts it Severus. And in destructive ways, unless you beat it at its own game. Mendrick's brilliance has long-faded, and he was always too weak-minded to resist its influence. This means, however, that I may have to resort to more conventional means of getting him to explain the Oracles' words'

'I don't think he knows, my Lord. You said yourself –'

'- that the language is unintelligible. But there are visions associated with the words, Severus, and judging from what I saw in your own mind, Mendrick was having visions. They might elucidate what the Oracle -'

He broke off suddenly and started looking at the dark sloping grounds beyond the standing stones. An almost full moon was now visible behind some scudding clouds and it cast fitful inky-blue shadows on the mountain slope. Something had alerted Voldemort.

'...I have had this niggling sensation for some time now,' he was saying. 'I thought it was Mendrick, whom I expected, but there is someone else on this mountainside – someone very well hidden, and very close now. Too close.'

Lily clutched her wand tightly in her hand, and stood straighter, even though her heart was hammering violently in her chest. If Voldemort turned towards her, she knew now what she had to do.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: The Gryffindor's Defiance.**

Lily crept silently to a point higher up on the slope. Mendrick had extinguished two of the Standing Stones with his bare hands. If they were the active points in some sort of Shield Charm, then there was a chink in the armour. She was sure that a spell cast between those two stones would reach inside that protective circle, and perhaps, if Voldemort was taken by surprise, she could stun him or disarm him.

But she did not have a chance to act, for the red flash of a curse came from somewhere further down the mountain side, aimed straight at Voldemort. However, as soon as it touched an invisible spot somewhere at the level of the glowing stones, there was a reverberating sound , unpleasantly like an electrical discharge, and the curse was harmlessly absorbed by the invisible protective field.

Lily flicked her sodden hair out of her eyes trying to see who was attacking. Whoever it was had acted even more rashly than her, ignoring the evident signs of protective magic. The Death Eater waiting in the shadows beyond the stones was already flitting silently in the direction from whence the spell had been fired. Severus had launched himself out of the two extinguished stones and was pelting downhill, trying to catch up with the Death Eater. There were several flashes of light as curses flew about wildly, but strangely enough, even in the bright blaze of the flying curses, Lily couldn't see the attacker.

Who else was on this damned mountain? And were they friend or foe? Voldemort must have sensed _their_ presence, not hers. But when she saw Voldemort issue forth from between the glowing stones and head downhill, his grim expression made her sorry for whoever had been foolhardy enough to attack that way. She crept further downhill. Voldemort was out of the protective circle, but he was too far now for her to get an accurate shot.

She felt she'd only have one chance at this...

Something moved suddenly between the boulders and rubble just a few feet from where she stood. Startled, she pointed her wand in that direction, but could hear nothing except the keening wind that had replaced the sound of the storm. She swallowed drily – her intention to attempt an attack on the most notorious dark wizard of her time, was making her see things, because for a moment there, it seemed she had seen a black wolf...

There were no wolves in Scotland. Perhaps it was just a large dog. She had to focus, or she might lose this one chance.

She squinted, trying to see what was happening further downhill. Severus and the Death Eater where both looking fixedly at one particular spot, and suddenly Severus lashed out with his wand firing a Stunner at something or someone, but Voldemort deflected Severus' curse, and, with a flick of his wand, he caused a figure to materialise out of thin air in front of him. Just then, the moon flitted out from behind the clouds and glinted on the round spectacles of the young wizard who had just appeared in front of Voldemort.

Lily's mouth dropped open. No – it couldn't be!

_James Potter_! This was the second time that he'd melodramatically appeared out of nowhere to confront Dark Wizards that were beyond his abilities to handle! The first time was when she and Severus got tangled with the Karkaroffs in the Forbidden Forest, and now... Didn't he ever learn, or was he so damned enamoured of spectacular, but suicidal, apparitions? How could he just barge onto Voldemort like that?

Why was he even here?

But the answer presented itself to her immediately. She had been stupid not to see it- Remus would've told the Marauders about their intended expedition to Ben Cόrhveinn! Probably Sirius Black and Peter were somewhere around, too. Now they were all in this mess and she had got them in it!

Waves of guilt and despair washed over her. She had come up this mountain in the hope of saving the world from the war, and instead ended up embroiling innocent students in a face-off with Voldemort himself! How could she have been so stupid, so selfish, and so conceited as to think she could do this on her own? She should've gone to Dumbledore!

Tears of anger and frustration leaked from her eyes, but she shook them off angrily. She had to _think_. She was the only one left undiscovered now... she couldn't give up now. There must be something she could do...

James Potter was facing Voldemort with his wand held in the duelling position, and dragging on the ground form his other hand were the silvery folds of the Invisibility Cloak Voldemort had removed from him. In spite of his foolishness, James Potter stood his ground unflinchingly in front of Voldemort. It couldn't be that easy to stare so boldly into those red eyes that had haunted her dreams so often, and more recently, her visions... Lily felt a reluctant admiration for Potter, as well as something like a déjà vue.

Of course – James Potter had stood just like that in her vision: fearlessly and proudly pointing his wand at Voldemort ready to duel him! It had been a fleeting glimpse, and she thought she had seen them in Hogwarts, surrounded by many staring faces, not on a lonely mountain side, still... Could she be seeing that vision actually happening now? Was she witnessing the end of Voldemort? Or that of James Potter? The strangeness of it all kept her frozen in place with bated breath, but Voldemort was laughing. Actually _laughing_: cold, humourless laughter intended to humiliate and belittle his opponent.

'Another schoolboy?!' he said, his cold voice laced with irritation as well as sarcasm, 'This mountain is infested with students toni-'

Potter moved so suddenly Lily didn't even see his arm move, a flash of red light lighting up the stone circle, but Voldemort had reacted quicker. Impossibly quick - as though _he knew_ Potter would attack. Probably, Lily thought, he _did_. Voldemort blocked Potter's spell easily, and with a lazy flick of his wand, James Potter was disarmed.

Voldemort handed his wand to Severus and moved closer to observe the young Gryffindor.

'Who are you, and what are you doing here?' he asked, in a voice that brooked no refusal.

But Voldemort didn't know Potter.

'I'm a garden gnome out for a midnight stroll-'

Lily groaned inwardly. What on earth did Potter think he'd accomplish by enraging Voldemort further? She had seen Voldemort's eyes close-up in her vision, and she could recognise a murderous look when she saw it.

Potter's jaunty reply ended in a grunt of pain as Voldemort pointed his wand at him and interrupted his words with a silent spell.

'I grow tired of these games, _James Potter_,' Voldemort said, coldly.

Potter was grimacing and breathing heavily from the effects of whatever spell the Dark Wizard had used on him, but then he looked up at Voldemort with surprise. Evidently, Potter was unaware of Voldemort's Legilimency skills, and that he apparently could pick the answers to his own questions from his victim's brains.

'Tell me what you are doing on this mountainside under an Invisibility cloak?' Voldemort reiterated, and this time there was no mistaking the threat in his voice.

Lily crept further down, keeping well hidden behind the boulders. If only she could get a clear shot of Voldemort... There was still the Death Eater to contend with... and Severus. Severus would have to choose what to do at this point.

'_You've got to trust me, Lily. I – I can find a way _he had said back in the cave. But now she didn't know whether she could trust him. Now, she had to depend on herself.

James Potter said something she didn't quite catch, and Voldemort had pushed his face closer to the young wizard.

'That's not what I asked you. I can tell when you are lying, James Potter' Voldemort hissed 'A Gryffindor Quidditch champion and a Pureblood, too. Your actions have been a strange combination of intelligent stalking and reckless bravery. The latter's quite typical of a Gryffindor, and yet...' Voldemort paused and suddenly his features twisted in fury '...and yet, it's not what it seems! A diversion! This is just a _diversion_!'

Voldemort whirled round to stare at the remaining five Standing Stones he had just left. And then Lily saw the intruder - he was crouching down, bent over the body of Remus Lupin, only Remus was sitting up now, and the figure bent over him was a Hogwarts student. Judging by his height and build, it was Sirius Black, not Peter Pettigrew.

With an enraged hiss, Voldemort ran back towards the stones, pointing his wand at them, but even as he did so, there was a sharp sound, and both Remus and Sirius disappeared by side-along Disapparition. It had happened so fast, that Lily barely had time to register the fact. But as it slowly dawned on her that the two Hogwarts students had just got away from the world's darkest wizard, she was filled with renewed hope. Now there was only James Potter left to save. And Severus.

If Severus wanted to be saved after all...

'... are your friends? What were you doing here?' Voldemort's fury was now directed at James Potter.

He had dragged the Gryffindor back right through the glowing stones to where Mendrick still lay twitching and groaning helplessly The Death Eater had also passed across the glowing stones but Severus had to take the long way round, passing through the point where the two stones had been extinguished by Mendrick. As he did so, he paused for the briefest of seconds to look in her direction – or rather where he had last left her. In a barely perceptible way, he moved the three wands he held in his hand in a way used for Disapparition. Lily knew he was trying to tell her to disapparate now.

But she wasn't going to. She was responsible for this mess and she was going to stay till every last student was out of Voldemort's clutches. That included James Potter, too. She had to wait for her chance to act, but act she would.

James Potter was glaring at Voldemort angrily, his mouth set in a grim line, obviously determined not to say anything. Hadn't he realised Voldemort could read his mind anyway?

Severus knew that. 'My Lord, that was Sirius Black, Lupin's friend. Lupin must have told them he was coming up here tonight, or else they came to seek him when he didn't turn up in the dorm.'

Perhaps Severus was trying to prevent Voldemort from reading Potter's mind. How much did Potter know? Remus would have told him that he was going to Ben Cόrhveinn with her.

'Igor, they would have apparated near Hogwarts' Gate,' Voldemort turned to the silent, masked, Death Eater whose hood shifted slightly as though he was nodding in assent, and Disapparated immediately.

'So you came looking for your friend, James Potter,' Voldemort turned his attention to the Gryffindor 'How _brave_ of you.' The emphasis on the word was a mocking one. 'But they seem to have left you in the lurch, now. Or have they? There is still someone on the edge of my perception...But more important than that – tell me, my young pureblood: how is it that you and your friend approached so close to me without my noticing? An Invisibility Cloak does not hide the wearer from a _homenum revelio_ spell, and I know spells that are far more revealing than that...'

'Pure talent...' Potter mumbled.

'_Hidden_ talent,' Severus said, looking with dislike at the Gryffindor.

'Talent, hidden or not, is still talent, Severus,' Voldemort's rage seemed to have subsided somewhat, 'And I could use talent like yours, James Potter...'

'I'll join you over your dead body!' Potter shouted, his glasses glittering angrily in the light of the moon.

'You may have to wait forever for that,' Voldemort retorted, with a humourless laugh. 'So what did your friend Remus Lupin tell you about his trip to the mountain? How did he know about this place?'

'He didn't tell us anything. He just didn't come back –'

But even Lily could see that he was hiding something. With a twinge of guilt, she knew even Potter was trying not to mention her name.

'Ah – dear, old Madam Mapleblossom,' Voldemort continued, just as if he hadn't heard him, 'Now I see the link. You know Mendrick's sister. Finally, I'm beginning to get to the bottom of this.'

James Potter looked devastated at how easily Voldemort had invaded his mind and picked information from it. Severus looked furious, his hands, clutching the three wands in a white-knuckled grip, twitched as though they were itching to hex Potter.

'Did dear old Mrs Mapleblosson reveal her brother's whereabouts to you? Is that what made you dig deeper into this old fool's discoveries? Strange – Mendrick isn't one to tolerate anyone – especially schoolboys – coming near that cave...'

Just then there was the sharp sound of Apparition and the Death Eater called Igor appeared within the dim light made by the remaining standing stones. He had lowered his hood. Beneath his mask, Lily got the impression he was very young with a pale face and weak chin.

'They weren't there, my Lord,' he reported.

'Well, then they're hanging around to try and rescue you, James Potter. How _loyal_. Pity such loyalty is misdirected,' Voldemort grinned, 'But now I have some unfinished business which is definitely more important than a few runaway schoolboys. If it fails, then Potter here will lead us to his friends. Keep this wizard at wand-point, Severus. Igor, it is time to call re-enforcements.'

The young Death Eater called Igor came forward rigidly and held out his left arm, lifting his sleeve to expose his inner forearm. Lily stifled a gasp. The pale flesh there was marked with something red. Or she thought it was red – it was difficult to make out any colours in the dim blue glow of the stones. So it was true – this was the dark mark. She thought she could just make out the outline of the skull and the longer, thinner part of the snake, a vivid red with darker edges like a brand-mark, and Voldemort was pressing his wand right into that mark. The pale arm of the Death Eater called Igor trembled slightly, the lips beneath the mask grimaced in pain or – something else. The mark had turned a deep, dark black, starting at the point where Voldemort's wand made an indentation on the branded skin.

Suddenly, another Dark Wizard appeared within the circle. Lily looked around frantically. She'd only heard rumours about the Dark Mark and how it worked, but apparently, some of those rumours were true. She looked around her frantically, half-expecting hundreds of Death Eaters to start apparating on the mountainside, summoned by the Dark Mark on their arms. But only the one lone Death Eater by Voldemort's side seemed to have been summoned. He was holding up something.

'...as agreed, my Lord,' The Death Eater was saying as he handed the dark wizard something that looked like a shawl or a small blanket.

Voldemort's next action took Lily completely by surprise. He snatched the cloth and went over to where Mendrick was still slumped against a stone, grasped him by the hair and bent his head backwards at an awkward angle.

'See this, Mendrick?' he hissed, shoving the shawl or blanket in his hands 'Do you recognise it? Perhaps you can't see through those bloodied eyes, but I'm sure you can _smell_ it! A very particular smell of old lady, and cats and dogs-'

'Noooo!' Mendrick screamed suddenly, coming to life suddenly and clenching the shawl in both fists.

'Put up quite a struggle for an old witch, my Lord,' the newly-arrived Death Eater said.

'Your sister stands to lose more than a few of her pets, Mendrick,' Voldemort said coldly 'Tell me the nature of what you have seen in that chamber, or else –'

But Mendrick did not seem to hear him. He was rocking back and forth holding Mopsy's shawl, a noise like an animal in pain escaping from his lips.

'She's not dead yet, you mad old fool!' the Death Eater cried 'This is just a warn-'

But Mendrick jumped suddenly to his feet as though pulled up by invisible strings, and in a strangulated voice he started shouting an incantation in the ancient language Lily had heard in the oracle. His blood-stained eyes were wide and staring, their silvery grey beginning to glow ominously. Lily couldn't understand what he was saying this time, but the mere sound of the harsh, guttural language was enough to send shivers of dread down her spine, and something in her head twinged painfully.

Voldemort and both the Death Eaters had taken a step back at Mendrick's reaction, and all wands were pointing at the unarmed wizard, but Mendrick was past caring – he seemed to have finally gone round the bend. He raised his hands, fingers flexed like claws and made a strange upwards motion with his hands from the ground to the skies and all the while his voice grew in volume and harshness. Potter had made a move to escape, but Severus dug all three wands into his throat with a look that rivalled Voldemort's in malice. Potter desisted.

Voldemort shouted something, his face a mask of foiled rage, and a flash of green light from his wand missed Mendrick by inches. It missed him because the ground was shaking violently as it had done back in the cave, the deep rumble sounding unexpectedly louder out here in the open, and this time, it wasn't just confined to the peak. Lily lost her balance as several stones from the pile of rubble beneath her gave way. Only the Menhirs remained standing, but their blue glow had been replaced by an incandescent white light that grew in intensity and seemed to spill over, so that each stone was connected to its neighbour by a thread-like discharge similar to what she had seen in the Oracle Chamber.

When she found her feet again, Mendrick's voice was still shouting the incantation, and the next instant, the light disappeared from the seven stones. It was sucked from the stones right into the ground beneath them and almost at the same time, an incandescent white light rent the night air as lightning struck the place where the Wing-shaped cave had been.

Lily shrieked and covered her eyes, blinded by the flash. The image of the lightning bolt was indelibly printed on her retina, so she knew the exact point where the lightning had struck: it was where Mendrick had stuck his gnarled wand into the ground at the cave entrance earlier that evening, before she and Remus had consented to go in.

Mendrick's wand was acting like some sort of electrical magnet, attracting lightning. She was sure that the skies had cleared – even the drizzling rain had stopped ... or perhaps it was the raw power of whatever magical energy had linked the standing stones, going right through the ground and discharging skywards through Mendrick's wand.

And it wouldn't stop. Her ears were assaulted by the continuous crack of the lightning – not once, but over and over and over again, until it seemed as though her head would split open with the cacophony.

Had the bolt of lightning come from the sky or from the energy sizzling between the seven standing stones forming the circle? And why hadn't his wand been burnt to cinders with the discharge? Mendrick's wand had looked like nothing more than a dry gnarled stick. How was Mendrick _doing _this?

Her hands cupped round her ears, she forced herself to look at the scene below. Mendrick was nowhere to be seen, but in the continuous lightning flashes she could see Voldemort, like a dark shadow, running – no not running- more like gliding or flying , as though borne on invisible wheels - up the slope towards the wing-shaped cavern and the blinding lightning. Behind him, the two Death Eaters followed.

The noise was deafening, but at least the ground had stopped shuddering and she tried to gather her wits about her.

Her wits, however, had been affected more than she thought, for the pain she had felt in her head inside the Oracle chamber was starting again.

But this was no time to come apart. This was her chance. She got up and made her way down the slope towards the Standing Stones, five of which had returned to the previous blue glow. She approached from the upper end of the circle, where Mendrick had removed the protective spell from around two of the monoliths. She could hear angry voices coming from within.

'... picking your brain like bloody overripe fruit! Why d'you always turn up like a fucking bad penny to ruin everything!?' Severus was shouting furiously.

'Ruining cosy Death Eater get-together's my speciality, Snivillus. Glad you remember it's not the first time!'

'Shut up Potter! Had the Dark Lord stayed a minute longer, he'd have made you spill _your soul_ to him!'

'Really? Well, I have no doubt you've already _sold _him yours, Snape!'

When she arrived at the circle of Severus had Potter by the throat. The noise of the lightening had died down as had the flashing light, but there was the sound of an ongoing battle from the distant peak.

'You have no idea – _no idea_,' Severus was saying viciously, all three wands deep in Potter's throat 'what I'd've done to you if you had breathed another word, Potter! I-'

He broke off as Lily came into the dim blue circle of light cast by the stones.

'Lily!' 'Evans!' they shouted in unison.

'What the fuck are you doing here?!' Severus hissed.

'Evans, I was wondering where you were,' Potter said, 'Remus said –'

'Bloody Lupin's gone now! So what're you waiting for to dissapparate?!' Severus cut across him savagely.

'I want Remus' wand,' Lily said, in a voice that was surprisingly steady and clear even to her own ears, 'And his.' She jerked her head at Potter. 'We're _all_ going back to school. Now!'

Severus moved a few steps towards her, but kept Potter covered with his wand.

'You know I can't,' he said, quietly.

She gazed at him for a second, her previous resolution faltering. She wanted to get everyone away from here – everyone who wanted to go. Severus silently handed her Remus' wand.

'Of course he can't!' Potter burst in, vindictively 'he's a _Death Eater_! He's one of You-Know-who's stooges! He broughthis master here to get _you_, Evans. Are you blind?!'

'Voldemort's own enchantments brought his to this place, Potter, not Severus. But no, I'm not blind,' she added, her voice sounding as cold as her heart felt.

Severus was still, his face deathly pale. 'Go back to Hogwarts, Lily,' he said in an expressionless voice.

'Give Potter his wand, and I will.'

She looked at Severus stubbornly. The distant sound of battle fell upon her ears in a disembodied way, as though it were something far away and unimportant. She wanted Severus to return with her now – this window of opportunity would not come again, they would be safe at Hogwarts. But clearly, he did not want to come...

Potter had seen his hesitation.

'He has no intention of letting me go, Evans,' he said shrewdly 'Afraid you'll look like a right twat in front of your master, eh, Snivillus? Letting me get away when he ordered you to keep me here... Bet he won't be too pleased with you!' Potter's glasses glinted blue fire 'Even your master recognised I've got more talent than you!'

'Shut up for a minute!' Lily shouted, losing her temper.

Her head was throbbing painfully now, and something disquieting was happening up in front of the winged cavern. There was something even more disquieting about Potter's words. She rubbed her head, trying to think straight, for even being angry felt like an effort.

'He's right, Severus,' she said, tiredly rubbing her head - she couldn't muster the energy to be angry anymore, 'You-know-who will murder you if he finds out you let Potter escape. And I'm not going to let you tie me up like you did Remus!' she ended, on a faintly menacing note.

'I wasn't going to,' Severus bit out tightly.

'Good. So you have no choice - you've got to come with us!'

'Evans ... what?!'

She ignored Potter, but Severus was shaking his head slowly.

'No. No I won't. The Dark lord will find out what _I _intend that he finds out,' he said slowly 'if you keep this dunderhead from interfering again, I'll –'

'I'm a Prefect. I – I have to see all students are back in school safely,' she lied desperately.

She went up to him. 'Severus, _please_,' she whispered, looking up into his face, trying to see if there was anything there – any hope – that she could cling to. But Severus' face was white and deathly still, the dark eyes beneath the slick wet hair looked barely alive.

'You don't understand. You don't understand at all, Lily,' he said with the merest flicker of something that looked like fear in his eyes. 'Here's Potter's wand - now _go!_'

And he threw Potter's wand right at him.

Potter, who had been looking at them with an increasingly furious expression, caught the wand deftly, but instead of Disapparating, he brought it round in a whirling arch to point at Severus, sending a hex flying towards him almost before his fingers grasped its handle. Severus blocked it – though barely- but Potter was firing hex after hex in such quick succession, that Severus staggered backwards, and the Shield Charm he had managed to conjure reverberated loudly with the force of the onslaught of spells.

'Stop! Stop that now!' Lily shrieked, pointing her wand at Potter.

Was this boy daft or something? But Potter's expression rivalled that of Severus in sheer gut-hatred. She hadn't seen the Gryffindor lose his cool so completely – even when facing Voldemort himself, his hatred had not been so utter. And how was she going to get him out of here now? If she stunned him, or cast a full body-bind curse on him, he wouldn't be able to Disapparate.

But before she could do anything, her head exploded with a pain so intense that she screamed in agony, and to her infinite despair, the voices had come back! The voices she had heard in the cavern. They were there in her head – shouting and crying in their guttural language – the ground was shaking again too, and she was knocked off her feet and slammed to the ground as a shockwave passed over her and through her. She wrapped her arms round her head as though that pathetic gesture would save her from what was inside her head, and yet this time, the voices were not angry – they were scared – yes, _scared_ – their harsh words screamed death and destruction in that unknown language. How she knew this, she did not know, nor did she know whose death they were lamenting - their own, or her own. Neither did she care – something inside her was writhing in pain and dying - she knew that.

She rolled into a foetal ball on the wet ground, not even willing to cling to her consciousness. Oblivion was infinitely sweeter.

And as she sank into that dark place where she hoped she would find peace, she heard the familiar high, cold voice shout from the mountaintop:

'_Morsmordre!'_

And the grinning evil shape of the Dark Mark, outshining even the moon above, was the last thing that her eyes gazed on as she slipped into the darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:The Animal in the Mist.**

Consciousness came back to Lily very slowly and very confusedly. The ground beneath her was still rocking, and it was warm and smelt oddly musky...

No, that couldn't be right, could it?

The ground lurched again and she clenched her hands around some grass to keep her balance. Only it wasn't grass - it was softer, warmer ...and the ground wasn't ground... it was moving rhythmically...

Realisation came slowly – she was lying prone on the back of a horse. She tried to lift her head, but the effort made her head swim and she screwed her eyes shut, letting her forehead fall back on the warm coat of the animal, forcing herself to breathe deeply until the sickening feeling subsided.

A _horse_? There were no horses on the mountain...she tried to sift through the jumble of memories and thoughts that were clamouring impatiently at her consciousness, desperate to be let in... there were red-eyed monsters in those memories... she didn't want _them_ to come in ... but there was something else too, something _important!_

She moaned, peering blearily through slitted eyes. She saw nothing at first – just darkness, but the rocking, rhythmic motion of the pacing horse beneath her assured her that she must be _somewhere_. At least she was not dead, and her head though very tender and sore, it was completely devoid of any voices whatsoever. In fact, all she could hear was the rustling of leaves and the wind whistling through the branches of trees.

She opened her eyes a bit wider and could make out, from the corner of her eyes, the moon flitting rapidly between the branches above her head. That meant, she thought in a bemused, detached kind of way that they were somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. But 'they' who?

The animal's soft padding on the forest floor was almost inaudible, and now that she thought about it, the forest floor seemed pretty close to where she was lying. Perhaps a small horse or pony – but there were no horses in the Forbidden Forest either, and Centaurs would kill you before they let any human on their back.

She moved her hands forward, towards the animal's neck, thinking at the back of her mind, that no horse - or unicorn - had a coat this thick. It was damp with rain and smelt musky, yet the strong, steady movement of the muscles and sinews she could feel beneath the thick coat was strangely reassuring.

There was something important she had to be doing – a prickle of unease stung her awake and she wondered if she should try and raise herself up again. She closed her eyes, braced herself against the animal's withers, and pushed herself up. It was too sudden and she closed her eyes, swaying precariously on the animal's back as the dizzy spell came over her again. The animal had slowed down to a stop. Desperately fighting back the dizziness, she opened her eyes, but her brain refused to believe what her eyes saw, and, convinced it was still confused, dragged her back into a faint.

...

It was still night when she came round. This time, she was not moving and she was lying propped up against a tree in a small clearing, the cold and damp ground having replaced the warm, rough coat of the animal that had carried her.

But the animal was still there.

It stood motionless in the moonlight, on top of a small mound, regarding her out of large, intelligent eyes. Proud and majestic, the stag tilted its head slightly to one side, displaying its antlers in full array.

Lily froze, but the animal did not move. It was one of the largest harts Lily had ever seen, at least 50 inches at the withers. At this time of the year, the antlers should have been in velvet, or just shed, yet this stag's antlers were fully formed, gleaming magnificently white in the moonlight. A pale mist blurred the outlines of the trees around the clearing and swirled silently around the animal's slender legs, making it seem as though it had been born of the mist - an ethereal creature that had borne her away from danger...

Memories of just such another ethereal creature came to her mind – the shy doe that had saved her life on more than one occasion here in this same forest. But that doe was dead – killed, years ago now, by dark wizards somewhere within this same Forbidden Forest. She had never forgotten that gentle creature, and how she had sacrificed its life to try and save hers.

The Doe had been known as The Spirit of the Forest, and indeed, her spirit had somehow survived within her, for her Patronus had taken the shape of a doe.

Could this stag be another reincarnation of the Spirit of the Forest?

Lily stood up slowly, steadying herself against the tree. She didn't want to make any sudden movements, for stags could be dangerous.

Yet she knew this was no ordinary stag.

The intelligent eyes followed her movement, the magnificent head tilting slightly upwards as she rose. He would not harm her, of that she was sure. This stag had saved her from the high cold voice that shouted the curses to the skies, and illuminated the darkness with glowing green skulls.

This stag had the same unearthly beauty as the Spirit of the Forest, and was just as strangely familiar.

She took a cautious step forward and then another. Her previous dizziness was gone and so was the soreness in her head, and she felt as though the many horrors on the mountainside had been driven away by the surreal beauty of the animal before her.

They were, perhaps, only 10 feet apart now, and still the stag regarded her calmly out of those large dark eyes, its nose twitching as it caught her scent.

Her heart was beating faster, and she held her breath as she came close. Any other animal would have either bolted or given clear signs of an imminent attack at this point, but though the crown of the antlers towered high above her head, she knew the stag was waiting for her.

Was this another form of the Spirit of the Forest? Someone else had mentioned the Spirit of the Forest tonight: Mendrick. The words from the Oracle had issued from his mouth in a way only she had understood. Mendrick had also mentioned a stag...

Could it be this one?

In this night of horrors and wonders, she felt she had seen enough to believe _anything_.

She struggled to remember what Mendrick had said when possessed by the ancient magic... Something about the extinction of magic and Gryffindor courage. It was very hazy, but she thought she could remember what he said about the doe:

_...Thou hast been touch'd by the Spirit of the Forest's ancient magic. The stag will begat the blood sacrifice that will end the war. The time is nigh when the Stag and the Doe unite.'_

Lily realised she had been holding her breath. She let it out tremulously.

_The stag will begat the blood sacrifice that will end the war._

She gazed at the large intelligent eyes of the stag and took a step closer, bringing her hand up to reach across the few feet that separated her from the majestic creatures' head. Was this beautiful animal destined to die, then, like the Spirit of the Forest?

For the space of a heartbeat the whole night stood in breathless silence, then her fingers touched the rough hair of its muzzle, and Lily could feel the warmth of its vital life force beneath her finger tips, could feel the hot breath from its nares.

An indescribable sadness came over her at the thought of its death, but only for an instant, for the animal drew back, away from her reaching hand.

It moved backwards, the large eyes gazed at her one last time, then it turned to go, the moonlight gleaming on the rough, rain-matted mane, and the oozing darkness on its right flank.

The darkness on its flank...

Lily looked down at her hands and saw they were dark with blood... the stag's blood. The warm wetness beneath her hands when the stag carried her was not only due to the rain. It was wounded, for there was a deep gash on its side and yet it had carried her to safety. She looked up just in time to see the stag stumble as it reached the line of trees that surrounded the clearing.

'Wait!'

She hurried forward, losing sight of it as it disappeared among the trees. The dappled moonlight threw confusing shadows beneath the trees but she thought she saw some movement a short way ahead. She ran towards it, knowing she couldn't leave a wounded animal hurt and alone - especially this one. She had helped Hagrid treat the hurt and wounded creatures of the forest many times before, perhaps she could help.

As she got closer, she realised the stag had fallen – it must have been hurt worse than she thought. Her heart racing, she ran up to where the creature lay on the forest floor, the sound of threshing hooves among the undergrowth urging her onwards. She slowed down again as she approached the writhing animal for those antlers could very easily gore her, but even before she arrived, she knew something was wrong. Very, very, wrong...

There were no antlers and the creature that was sprawled on the forest floor was different to the majestic stag. The stark black-blue shadows cast by the little moonlight that filtered through the branches above her head made it difficult to see, but something had stopped her in her tracks: the creatures shape was all wrong: it was much thinner, its coat darker and it was now lying very still half-hidden by the undergrowth, which grew thickly this close to the clearing.

Swallowing her fear, Lily inched closer for she couldn't – just _couldn_'t - believe that anything that had taken on the shape of that Stag could be a dark creature or a danger to her. Why save her from Voldemort otherwise?

Her breath hitched as the creature stirred – there was a low groan quickly stifled by a sound no animal throat could have produced:

'Bloody hell!' the creature whispered.

What in Merlin's name was happening?! She took a step backwards, instinctively searching for her wand. For some strange reason, it was in her pocket. Her fingers curled around its reassuring smoothness, just as the man on the forest floor rolled sideways with another stifled groan.

'Who – who are you?' She asked, pointing her wand at him. Even in the dark, she could see that it's tip was shaking slightly.

The man stopped moving immediately. He was propped up on one arm and his head snapped up to look at her. It was too dark to see his face, but at least there wasn't a white death Eater mask hiding it.

'Why in Merlin's name did you follow me here, Evans?' he said.

She gasped, feeling as though the ground was pulled out from under her feet. She recognised that voice: it was usually the loudest in the common-room, the most raucous on the Quidditch Pitch, and she had last heard it only a short time ago yelling hate-laden words beneath the peak of Ben Cόrhveinn.

But it wasn't loud or raucous or hate-laden now. It was just wan and weary.

James Potter shifted his weight on his other arm and she heard a sharp intake of breath as the movement triggered pain from the wound...the wound in the stag's flank. Her wand hand shook even more as she came to the only possible conclusion.

'You're not going to hex me, are you?' Potter continued, pushing himself to a sitting position with a grunt of pain.

Her arm fell limply to her side.

'I - What -?' But it seemed as though she couldn't form a coherent question.

'You shouldn't have followed me,' Potter repeated in a grim voice 'You should've disapparated.'

He rolled onto his knees and tried to get up, but buckled over, holding his side and swearing softly. Without thinking, Lily pocketed her wand, held out her hand and helped him to his feet.

'Thanks,' he murmured.

'You're the stag,' she said looking up at him in wonder.

Potter didn't answer her for a moment.

Glancing down, Lily saw her hand glistening darkly with his blood.

'There was no other way,' James Potter said slowly, 'You-Know-Who was reading my mind. I – I couldn't stop him. It was ... _bad._' He grimaced at the memory.

'I saw the Dark Mark. Who –?'

'Mendrick. You-know-who murdered him. Or one of the Death Eaters did. I don't know, for I didn't wait around till they came back. You were in agony, Evans, so I just lifted you onto my shoulders and took off.'

'Did Severus get away too?'

'He didn't want to, remember?'

She nodded, looking down at the ground. Where was Severus now? He was so adamant he knew what he was doing. But even with Occlumency, what excuse could he possibly invent that would spare him Voldemort's' wrath at letting Potter escape?

'Look – Evans, I'm sorry about your boyfriend – I didn't mean to upset you so much back there. I – I just lost my head – I shouldn't have attacked him. It's just that – well, you deserve someone much better.'

Lily looked up at him, not understanding for a moment.

'Severus isn't my boyfriend – 'she started without thinking, but then she closed her mouth and looked to the ground again. Severus was much more than 'a boyfriend', and yet...

Potter's eyes were looking at her intently behind his round glasses.

'Well, be that as it may. I just thought, the way you spoke to him back there ...' he hesitated, then changed track 'Remus told me why you went looking for Mendrick, and I overheard enough to know something happened in that cave – Did you tell Snape about the cave?'

She shook her head miserably.

'I thought as much. Look – I'm not going to ask you what happened in there, or if – if Snape was there too. Just - just keep away from him, that's all. He's bad for you -worse than all the other blokes you've dated,' Lily glanced up at him quickly but he was not smirking or gloating – for once he spoke sincerely 'He made it look like he was trying to protect you, but I don't trust him, and neither should you!'

'You don't know Severus –' she started.

'And do _you_?'

'I – Look, you're hurt - shouldn't we get going?'

'It's just a scratch. Don't change conversation, Evans.'

It felt as though their roles had been reversed somehow, and Potter was the one acting seriously and responsibly and warning her against unseen dangers she was mule-headedly and unreasonably defending.

She looked up at him, biting her lip, for she couldn't ignore some glaring truths in his words.

'Look, Evans, when I told you that you deserve someone better, I wasn't talking about myself,' he said, looking down and speaking in such a low voice that she could hardly hear what he said, even though they were standing close enough, 'I know I'm...well... in trouble, for a start.'

She thought she hadn't heard well. James Potter describing himself as undeserving? That was a first. But then, she recalled with a start, James Potter was not exactly who or what he made himself out to be either.

'In trouble?' she repeated

'Don't you know what happened?' he said, leaning closer to whisper 'Don't you realise what I am?'

This time Potter couldn't help a note of excited pride creeping into his voice, but his eyes had the same calm, proud look as when he had been looking at her through the large, dark eyes of the stag.

'Who transfigured you?'

'No – no, _no_. No-one transfigured me. If someone transfigured me, I'd be nothing more than an animal in both body and mind. But I can change into a stag at will – I keep my mind and I know what I'm doing all the time. It's me, all the time. You saw that – you _knew, _didn't you_?'_

She nodded slowly.

'But why should you be in trouble? You saved my life, James!'

Something shifted in the eyes behind the round spectacles and he stood a little straighter. She realised she had just called him 'James'.

'I'm an Animagus, Evans. An _unregistered_ animagus. You know what that means, don't you?'

'It means you could get close to Voldemort without him noticing your presence; it means that you could resist his Legilimency should the need arise, it means you carried me on your back when I was unconscious and brought me here safely. It means that I'm deeply grateful to the stag that saved my life... '

'Oh – wow... really? You - you won't tell?'

'I can keep a secret.'

'But this is a very...uh..._illegal_ secret. And you're a Prefect.'

'Well, I think I've broken a few rules myself tonight. So no holier-than-thou speeches,' she grinned.

'Not even the shouldering-your-responsibilities kind?'

She laughed outright. 'I think you've shouldered more than your fair share of responsibilities tonight – you've shouldered _me_, and I think I may have made your wound hurt more. Can I see?'

'Wha -? No, No –there's no need. I told you –it's just a scratch. I've hurt worse in Quidditch.'

'Why doesn't it stop bleeding then? Blood's dripping between your fingers.'

She indicated where his hand was clasped to his side and dark blood was seeping through.

'Yeah well, Snape's very inventive with his curses, isn't he? Probably there's an anti-congealing jinx in whatever he hit me with.'

'Severus did that?'

'Well, I wasn't exactly throwing flowers at him - I think I gave him as good as I got!'

Lily made a noise of impatience. 'You're both so goddammed _stupid_ when you're around each other, you know!?'

James Potter shrugged his shoulder with a disarming grin, but winced immediately as the motion pulled at the wound. More blood oozed darkly from between his fingers and unless it was a trick of the moonlight, Lily thought he looked paler.

'You've got to let me staunch that flow or you won't even make it back to Hogwarts!'

'I'm not going to disrobe in front of you, Evans!'

'I'm not asking you to – your robes are ripped right through, look!'

'Oh – right.'

He lifted his arm gingerly above his head and pale flesh peeked between a rip down his side.

She pointed her wand at the hem of her cloak.

'_Diffindo_!' she murmured and the hem of her cloak ripped neatly into a long strip. She repeated this twice more.

'Now hold this in place' she instructed handing him a wad of cloth from her cloak 'we need to apply pressure and you need a Blood-replenishing Potion. If the wound were small enough I would try and heal it by magic, but perhaps better not...'

Knowing Severus, this was not a simple gash. She took the remaining strips and bound them tightly to his chest.

'You know this bandage would have been more effective directly applied to your chest – I wouldn't have imagined you so shy...'

There's loads you don't know about me then. But if you really insist, I _will_ take my clothes off for you, Evans – Oww!'

Lily gave the bandage a sharp tug as she pulled it tight.

'I think I liked you better as a stag,' she remarked wryly, as she passed the bandage one last time around his chest.

'That can be easily arranged,' Potter murmured 'Only perhaps not right now...'

She was so close to him that even in the dim light she could see his eyelids slide shut and his jaws were clenched.

'Am I hurting you?' she asked anxiously, as she tied the final knot in the bandage.

Potter did not answer for a minute but breathed deeply through his nose, his eyes still shut.

'James, am I hurting you?' she repeated.

Potter opened his eyes and looked down at her.

'Nah, this is just for effect, Evans,' he said, with a valiant attempt to stand straighter that did not fool her.

'C'mon - let's get you out of here before you bleed to death. This is part of the Forbidden Forest that is beyond Hogwart's walls, isn't it?'D'you think you can disapparate? It'll be quicker.'

He nodded. 'The Dark Mark will have alerted the Ministry. We'll use the secret passage behind the fourth Floor mirror, get back to Gryffindor tower, and pretend to have been innocently sleeping all this time.'

'Not so innocently in my case ...but yes, we need to get you to the Hospital Wing.'

'Together then, Evans?' Potter held up his wand and offered her his other hand.

It was blood-soaked.

_The stag will begat the blood sacrifice that will end the war. _

Perhaps there was far more to James Potter than the arrogant berk she had always assumed he was. Besides he wasn't being arrogant now.

There was also the vision – she had seen him facing Voldemort himself. What did it mean? What did the future hold in store for James Potter? It certainly did not bode well for him, if he was the stag mentioned by the Oracle.

He still had his hand outstretched, smiling and completely unaware of the dark words echoing in her head.

'Lily –call me Lily,' she said, as she put her hand in his and shivered slightly at what those words could mean.

'You sure?' he said, looking at her quizzically 'You look as though you've seen a ghost. I'm not that bad... really..._Lily_.'

'You've carted me half-way down the mountain on your back – I think we can afford to be on first-name terms now, don't you think?'

A huge smile spread across Potter's face, as she fished her wand out of her pocket. His hand had engulfed hers and she could feel the warmth of life beating steadily in his veins. Did the Oracle's words mean that somehow that hand, so warm and vital now, would soon be cold and dead? Could it really happen? And when and where would it happen? What did it all _mean?_

Potter's hand twitched as though ready to disapparate, but she pulled him back a little.

'Before we go – ' she said, looking up at him wanly 'I just wanted to tell you... well, whatever happens... thanks for saving my life, James.'

' '_Whatever happens_?' You make it sound ominous,' he looked at her with a puzzled frown 'We'll make it through – you'll see, Lily. We've been in many tight spots before and it's always turned out well.'

'You're right,' she took a deep breath and gave him a bright smile as she felt his hand tighten around hers and next instant the imploding feeling of dissapparition took her breath away. James had apparated them to a dark doorway in one of the side streets, near Gamboll and Japes. The street was deserted. He staggered slightly against her but straightened up immediately.

'Sorry,' he murmured.

In the pale light of the street lamps he looked paler than ever, and Lily knew that he was feeling the effect of the blood loss.

'I couldn't risk apparating directly in that old house' he whispered 'With Death Eaters up and about - especially Snape –'

'He's not a Death Eater !'

But James potter ignored her and continued as though he hadn't heard her '– I wanted to make sure both the house and the Hog's Head Inn are not crawling with them. Come on.'

They left the safety of the doorway and walked hurriedly down the street. She felt very exposed even though all the windows were dark and nothing moved. Severus would have probably stuck to the dark shadows between the lamps, but James Potter strode confidently down the street as though he owned it. She noticed he wasn't holding his side anymore, yet he walked slightly hunched over.

'They haven't noticed that yet,' she said nodding towards the distant mountains. The grinning skull still floated eerily above Ben Cόrhveinn.

'No, but I guess they soon will. It hasn't been that long since I carried you down the mountain.'

'I kind of lost track of time.'

'Yeah, well, you were not quite yourself. You had me worried for a bit there – '

'Well, that place is brimming with old magic – it made my head hurt.'

He looked back at her as she said this – he knew she was hiding something, but she didn't feel like recounting how the voices had died inside her. She didn't even know why or how she knew, but was sure she'd never ever hear those voices again. They had gone when Mendrick died. James, however, turned back to the street and did not ask her anything.

'Here we are,' he said peering into a side street ' The Hogs' Head looks as normal as it ever was – I think we could risk apparating inside that old house now.'

This time they disapparated separately, for the one single specific destination close by.

As she drew breath again after re-appearing, she smelt the familiar musty smell of the dust-strewn bookshop that led to the secret passage Severus had discovered. She did not dare light her wand in case it was seen through the boarded windows. Instead she flicked her wand and a small, very dim single blue flame came alive. She looked around her for Potter and found him on his knees gasping for breath. She ran over and offered him her hand.

'Too much squeezing ...' he bit out, struggling to his feet 'Perhaps we should've blasted our way in...'

'Great idea - that way you won't arouse any suspicion at all. Here –' she opened the trapdoor 'be careful when you jump down – you don't want to start bleeding again.'

'Don't worry – you're an excellent nurse.' He crouched down and lowered himself slowly through the trapdoor and Lily followed.

Once inside, James lighted his wand and the familiar symbols and signs of the tunnel sprang into life, lighting the way ahead. It also lit up his pallor and the blood-red smears on both their hands.

'Let's hope no-one will see us – talk about being caught red-handed' Potter said, holding up his hand with a grimace.

'D'you think Remus and Sirius made it back?'

'Sure they did – but they ...uh ...know another secret passage. They headed that way.'

'D'you think they've told Dumbledore?' She couldn't hide the anxiety in her voice.

'No. They were still hanging around when you fainted. They saw what happened to Mendrick further up the mountain and stayed to see if we got away all right – I spoke to them before I transfigured.'

'Oh.'

James Potter slowed to a stop as though he knew what was on her mind.

'They were ready to expose Snape to Dumbledore' he said seriously 'He's of age now and can make his own choices. His little jaunt with Voldemort would not only get him expelled – it would send him to Azkaban!'

Lily brought her hand to her mouth and gasped. She hadn't thought of it that way. She hadn't thought of it at all since they left the mountain actually - too many strange things had happened.

'But I persuaded them not to,' James Potter continued, his eyes fixed intently on hers.

'Why – why not?'

'I was sorely tempted to, of course, but I thought we all have a lot to lose if this story gets out. But the thought that that murderous, viscid Slytherin _fiend_ can still live in Hogwarts – '

'Stop that James! I wouldn't even be alive, if it wasn't for Severus! And _I_ was the one to lead everyone into this mess! If anyone deserves to be expelled it's _me_! I – I don't deserve –' her voice quivered uncontrollably and she drew a deep breath, blinking rapidly.

James said nothing at first, but looked both stricken and angry.

'I thought you'd say that. I knew you'd go all heroic and take all the blame yourself. It's one of the main reasons I persuaded Remus to keep his mouth shut.'

'Well, thanks...I guess.'

'But you really _are_ a heroine, Lily – Remus told me what Mendrick promised – it takes guts to try and get that information. There must have been some truth to that mad wizard's words if You-Know-Who was so interested in them. Mopsy always told us her brother was a genius.'

She did not answer him. It was increasingly clear to her that she had discovered something. There were too many signs, too many coincidences all in one night.

'So did you discover anything in there?' James asked the question he had been clearly dying to ask.

She shook her head and lowered her eyes. James Potter should, perhaps, be the last person to know, for now. She didn't really know exactly what she had discovered, and she needed to be sure before she spoke up about the Oracle – she needed to fit together the pieces of the puzzle. And riddles, Severus had said, took a long time to figure out.

'Well, it's a pity you didn't find out how to rid the world of that twisted, snake-faced wizard. Remus was kind of hoping you would...' James sounded short of breath as the tunnel turned steeply upwards.

'You heard Voldemort – the Oracle spoke in a dead language not even he understood. Perhaps Mendrick did, but he's dead now...Tonight was worse than a complete failure!'

'It wasn't a complete failure for me. Actually it was quite...miraculous.'

'Miraculous?'

'I get to call you by your name, Lily.'

She smothered a laugh. After the harrowing events on that wild mountainside, she was surprised she could still do something so light-hearted as laugh, but just as Severus had unlimited resources of bitterness and anger, James Potter seemed to have unlimited resources of cheerfulness and confidence – nothing seemed to get him down.

They had arrived behind the mirror of the fourth floor corridor. He pushed it open a sliver and the glowing signs and symbols illuminating the tunnel faded immediately, plunging them into darkness.

'Ok – nobody's about – let's make a dash for it!' James said,, emerging into the dimly-lit fourth floor corridor.

The only light came from the moon outside the windows for all the torches were out. Lily glanced at her wrist watch.

'It's almost five in the morning. How are we going to explain this to Madam Pomfrey?'

'Don't worry about her – she's used to me turning up at very odd hours with something to fix. She won't object.'

Lily looked at him doubtfully. Their robes had dried with the stiff breeze that had followed the storm, but James' makeshift bandages were soaked in blood.

'Don't worry,' James repeated seeing her expression 'I think Pomfrey has a soft spot for me. She won't ask too many questions.'

They went down the steps to the third floor and headed towards the Hospital Wing. As they approached the large double doors, James slowed down.

'There's no need for Pomfrey to see you,' he whispered 'It'll only make it harder to explain. Go back to the dorm. I'll be fine now.'

'Sure?'

'Sure. It's not the first time I've turned up in the hospital wing in the middle of the night with odd injuries. After she stops yelling, Madam Pomfrey usually gives me a hot chocolate. With a bit of luck, I might even wangle an early breakfast.' He smiled reassuringly.

'Ok, then... and ...uh...thanks for not saying anything, especially about Severus.'

James eyes darkened. 'About that... you realise that if for some reason Snape doesn't turn up he'll give the whole game away, don't you?'

'Why shouldn't he turn up?'

James Potter looked as his feet, looking suddenly awkward.

'Snape was in no position to come back,' he said finally, his expression hardening 'he wanted to explain to his Master and I think I gave him a cast-iron excuse.'

'What d'you mean?'

'Never mind. Snape not ever coming back is just wishful thinking on my part.'

She shook her head, 'Severus wouldn't just ditch school. He wouldn't run away, he wants to get his NEWTS. He'll come back. He _has_ to come back!'

The niggling unease that had gnawed at her ever since they left the mountain increased a hundred fold. She knew she couldn't have forced Severus to leave if he didn't want to - but another thought was weighing heavily on her conscience now – what if her decision to cover up for him was wrong?

Of course, it was devastatingly wrong on many levels – but she was still clinging to the hope that, in part at least, Severus had been protecting her from Voldemort. She had to give him the benefit of that doubt.

But what if he was in trouble with Voldemort now?

James Potter was looking at her with narrowed eyes. She swallowed dryly.

'If he doesn't turn up, I'll speak to Slughorn,' she said.

James didn't say anything, but turned towards the Hospital wing doors and knocked sharply. Then he turned round to look at her again.

'You know what I hate the most about Snape?' he said, tightly 'He's hurt you time and again and yet you can't let go.'

'No. No, that's not true, I-.' She stopped.

Yes, that was true.

James gave her a humourless smile. 'Go back to bed, Lily. Pomfrey's coming.'

The sound of footsteps came from beyond the door and a light shone beneath it.

Lily backed away.

'_Go_!' James hissed.

Lily turned and ran.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter17: Broken Bones and Open Wounds.**

'Snape! Snape! Get up!'

Severus screwed his eyes shut tighter as consciousness returned. His whole body was aching and he could not draw air into his lungs. Consciousness _hurt_, and for a few seconds he resisted, wishing for the painlessness of oblivion, but consciousness was something Severus Snape held more dear than relief from pain, so he returned to it as was his wont: suddenly and completely. No sooner was he jarringly awake, than memories came flooding back, bringing with them a screaming urgency to act! _Now!_

But he was pinned under a heavy weight, and someone was shaking him by the shoulder.

'You'd better snap out of it, for the Dark Lord is coming! Where's the prisoner?'

Severus lifted his head up from the sodden ground but even that small movement sent a sharp, shooting pain down his right side. He swore, gritting his teeth against the pain. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the face of Igor Karkaroff hovering above him, his face pale in the moonlight, for he was without his Death Eater's mask. He scanned the darkness around - no-one else was there.

He breathed a sigh of relief – or he would have, had the pain in his chest allowed him to.

Apart from the dim, green glow of the Dark Mark, the moon was the only light, for the standing stones were no longer illuminated – they were just innocent boulders, glistening wetly in the night...except for the one that had toppled onto him and pinned him to the rain-soaked ground! Its weight seemed intent on grinding his body several inches deeper into the mud. Karkaroff was looking at something or someone further up the slope.

'Get up!' Karkaroff repeated, urgently 'Where's the prisoner?'

He tried to move.

'James bloody Potter escaped!' he bit out, as further stabs of pain ran from his right shoulder to his chest, 'And if you want me to get up, then lift this fucking stone off me!'

Igor Karkaroff scowled, but stood up and took a step backwards, lifting his wand.

He did not have the time to cast the spell however.

'I will do that,' said a high cold voice, and Severus felt the pressure ease as the huge stone was levitated off him, light as a feather.

Voldemort had apparated silently in the middle of the stone circle. Severus pushed himself to a kneeling position with his left arm, for his right was in excruciating pain.

'My Lord, he said the prisoner escaped,' Igor Karkaroff explained.

Severus shot him a dirty look as he staggered to his feet. He could barely hold his wand and he was sure his right arm was broken, as well as a couple of ribs. Voldemort's eyes were nothing but dark sockets in his moonlit face, but Severus knew they were looking at him.

'There was a shockwave,' he explained, 'It must have knocked the stone over on top of me.'

'Only one stone of the seven, Severus?' Voldemort was clearly suspicious.

'It's the one on the highest ground. The rain must've weakened it somehow,' he replied, thinking quickly.

It wasn't the shockwave that had toppled the megalith. It was Potter. Frustrated at not being able to get through his shield charm, Potter had fired a curse hitting the base of the stone, toppling it over onto him. Potter's curse had preceded the strange shockwave by seconds, so it could be that the combination of both factors that had brought the stone down.

He glanced at the megalith Voldemort had levitated away. It was amazing he had come out from under that alive. Probably the rain-drenched earth and the mossy heather had something to do with it, as well as the fact that only his right side had been caught beneath it.

'The 'shockwave', as you call it, was the result of the death throes of a substantial part of Earth Magic Mendrick had absorbed from the Oracle,' Voldemort said, dispassionately, 'With the death of that old fool, the Oracle has lost its voice, and it may be centuries before it finds another custodian – if ever. The mountain peak – or what's left of it after that blast – has been sealed for the indefinite future'.

There was a faint noise of apparition and a masked Selwynn appeared next to Voldemort.

'My Lord, do you wish for reinforcements? The Aurors will be alerted soon.' He half-lifted his sleeve as he said that, exposing the branded skull and snake.

'No need, Selwynn. I had hoped to speak further with one young, misguided pureblood tonight, but apparently, he _escaped._'

Voldemort looked at Severus when he said this.

'My Lord, I would never've let that arrogant bastard go if I hadn't been knocked out! Potter took advantage of that and stole his wand back! And that of Lupin. I would've torn him apart – I would've smashed open that oversized head of his, before I let him escape!'

'Much as I admire your ghoulish eagerness to dismember your bloodtraitor schoolmates, Severus, I would be decidedly ..._irritated_ ...' Voldemort put just enough deadly emphasis on the word for everyone to know that his irritation would be deadly to behold '...if you render them unable to provide me with information I seek again.'

Voldemort took a step closer, but Severus was prepared for the invasion on his mind this time. He braced himself, for Voldemort had raped his mind mercilessly not so long before – it was unexpected and harsher than Madeira had ever subjected him to – and gentle Madeira had never been.

But it was just idle rifling through the upper layers of his mind now – Voldemort didn't dig deep, and Severus found it easy to provide him with what he expected to find. Hatred of Potter bubbled hot and furious within him, overriding even the pain of broken bones, and a venomous jealousy of the fact that Voldemort had called Potter 'talented'. This lying with the truth helped masked what had really happened: how Lily had intervened, and how he had given that bastard his wand because it was the only way to get her to disapparate.

Voldemort laughed. 'You are too blinded by jealousy to see this young wizard's worth, Severus. You have yet to learn to win over those who could be useful to us. I understand the traditional rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but once out of Hogwarts, those differences will disappear. Potter has defied me once, but he may yet be turned to our side.'

'Potter's good for nothing else but chasing quaffles, my Lord,' Severus said, keeping the hatred in his voice to a minimum, but letting just enough show through anyway.

'I think there's more to James Potter than your green-eyed view of him would have us believe, Severus. However, luckily for you, I do not really need him, or his other two friends, for I've pieced together the puzzle.'

'There's still his sister, my Lord.' Selwynn said, with an eagerness he could not disguise.

'Mapleblossom? That animal-loving fool knows nothing,' Voldemort said, contemptuously, 'She knew just enough to send some curious schoolboy she befriended to seek out her brother, worried about his fate, and too frail to seek him out herself. Wanting to learn of his visions about this war, she got Lupin to do it for her. A task at which he failed miserably, for all he heard was an earful of gibberish. It is very easy to lure young, idealistic wizards with promises of fame and glory in wartime, isn't it, Severus?'

'I – I just followed Lupin, I did not –'

'You did not think about earning some of that fame yourself, Severus? No self-respecting Slytherin would pass up such an opportunity...'

Severus shut up, for in spite of his sneering smile, there was a dangerous note in Voldemort's voice.

'From now on, Severus, if you hear of any plot, scheme, prophecy, or plan, on this magnitude, that has to do with the war, you will let me know immediately. Do not attempt anything yourself, even though you _do_ seem to have a natural ability for stealth...'

'If I do, I'm not sure how to find you to tell you, my Lord.'

'You are friends with Rosier, are you not?'

He nodded.

'Then send word through him and I will find you myself.' Voldemort took a step closer, eyeing Severus steadily with burning eyes, 'I have a feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, you may one day be allowed to summon me yourself.'

It took a few seconds for Severus to realise what Voldemort was saying. Selwynn and Karkaroff exchanged glances behind Voldemort's back, but obviously dared not voice their disgust at hearing that a halfblood like him could one day ever join their ranks.

Well, he was not just _any _half-blood.

'You have done well, Severus,' Voldemort continued, 'Schoolboy or not, you have faced ancient magic and come out alive to tell the tale. Truly worthy of being descended from the great Severus Prince!'

Severus saw Selwynn and Karkaroff exchange an even more incredulous look. He stood straighter, prouder, suppressing a grimace of pain as muscles pulled on broken ribs. He knew, at the back of his mind, that Voldemort was an expert at flattery – he had seen him at work with new recruits once in an abandoned house at Little Hangleton – but still, it felt bloody _good _to hear appreciation instead of condemnation for a change!

'Thank you, my lord,' he murmured.

'It is time to leave. I regret having to kill Mendrick, but he left me mo choice: earth magic was acting through him in a dangerous way. So, unfortunately, the Oracles' words will have to remain unknown. But what is disquieting ...' Voldemort paused, throwing one last glance at the Dark Mark hovering over the bare peak of Ben Cόrhveinn '...is the fact that such words _exist_ at all.'

'Surely, my Lord, there are other ways – other oracles – from whence you could obtain what you are seeking?' Karkaroff said, unctuously.

'Perhaps. Or perhaps not,' Voldemort said, brusquely, 'Severus, it is time for us to part, but we will meet again, you can rest assured.'

And on that vaguely threatening note, Voldemort dissapparated silently, so that Severus was left looking at the impassive, white-masked faces of the other two Death Eaters, who prepared to leave too. A second later, Selwynn had vanished silently into thin air and Karkaroff followed with the more familiar pop of Disapparition.

The greenish hue of the Dark Mark, as it undulated above the mountain peak reminded Severus that this place would soon be crawling with Aurors, so he started immediately downhill, pain shooting through his shoulder and arm with every jarring footstep down the uneven terrain. But he dared not try to dissapparate when he could hardly move his wand arm – he'd only end up splinched, or, even worse, somewhere he did not intend apparating to. His broken arm meant he couldn't even try to mend his own bones. But for now, the important thing was to get back inside Hogwarts.

If Potter and his gang revealed what they had seen to Dumbledore, he should at least be there to defend himself or to deny everything. He didn't think they would say anything – they couldn't do so without incriminating themselves too, but he couldn't be sure.

It took him the best part of an hour to stumble painfully down the mountainside and into Hogsmeade. There were still a few hours before dawn, and not many of the sleeping witches and wizards had noticed the green skull above the distant mountain top, but some lights were flickering on in upstairs windows, and some heads were poking out of doors and windows to gaze at the mountains. He heard the pop of apparition and a wizard appeared in the middle of the high street and set off at a run towards the side street that led to the Hog's Head inn. An Auror Severus recognised as Fenwick. Several more appeared and took off in several directions through the sleeping village. Severus swore under his breath and moved in the deeper shadow of the door way he was hiding in. There was nothing for it – there was no way he could get past them without arousing suspicion – he'd have to dissapparate.

Gritting his teeth, he whirled round and concentrated hard on the abandoned bookshop where the trapdoor to Rowena Ravenclaws' secret passage was.

The tight, squeezing sensation raked his broken ribs against his lungs, and for a few seconds he must have blacked out. When he opened his eyes again he found himself sprawled on the floor near a mouse-infested counter. Despite apparating in semi-conscious state, he seemed to be all in one piece – discounting the burning pain around his chest and arm. Thankfully, he had managed to apparate in the right place, for the musty smell of the old bookshop beneath Madeira's old living quarters assaulted his senses.

A hubbub of noise came from outside, beyond the boarded-up room , for The Hog's Head inn was across the street and Severus knew the Aurors – especially Fenwick – would be raising hell in there. He pulled open the trapdoor to the secret passage with his left arm and stumbled through awkwardly, lighting his wand.

The ancient signs and symbols that decorated the wall of Rowena's passageway shone into life, and for the first time he noticed the muddy smears. The mud was fresh, but it was difficult to tell whose footprints they were – probably the Marauders, but none of the marks were clear enough for him to recognise: he just hoped that Lily had returned here safely, even if it meant having that bloody Potter in tow!

When he emerged in the fourth-floor corridor all was quiet. He knew that if he was found wandering the corridors with several broken bones, a bloody face and drenched in mud, questions would be asked, so he found the first boys' bathroom and staggered in thankfully.

It was excruciatingly painful and awkward to strip his mud-caked clothes off, but a quick shower got rid of all traces of the dirt from the mountain, and the blood from the nosebleed. His dumped his cloak and robe under the shower and treated them in the same way: the results weren't as good as the house elves in the laundry normally produced, but at least there were no heather or lichen on his clothes to give the game away. With a simple Drying Charm (cast rather clumsily with his left hand), his clothes were passably dry and he struggled painfully into them again

That left him with one conundrum: his broken arms and ribs. As far as he knew, none of his mates in Slytherin knew how to mend bones, and his wand arm was too important to risk a botched job. He heaved a sigh and left the bathroom cautiously, heading down to the third floor and the Hospital Wing. He would spin Madam Pomfrey some tale about an accident.

There was a tinge of greyness in the east that signalled an approaching dawn, and the Dark Mark had faded from the sky above the distant mountains. All was quiet in the Hogwarts corridors -probably the students were not unaware of what happened, and if the teachers knew, they would probably be up in Dumbledore's office right now.

The silence also gave made him think that probably Potter and his moronic gang had thought better of spilling the beans about the night's adventure. Potter must be finding it pretty tempting, considering how he'd found him in the company of the Dark Lord: that would be reason enough not to only to get him expelled, but to send him on a one-way trip to Azkaban, given the way Barty Crouch was handling things!

However, they had no way of going around the fact that it had been their Werewolf friend, Remus Lupin, who had been up that mountain first: and they knew that he, Severus, had more than one card up his sleeve regarding the Gryffindor Prefect! Their ridiculous loyalty to the Werewolf would work in his favour.

And there was Lily, of course.

They wouldn't want to get their other Prefect into trouble. Especially that bastard, Potter, who had his own private agenda for wanting to be in her good books!

The thought of Lily brought back a flood of memories that he had pushed to the back of his mind, especially throughout the deep state of Occlumency he had forced himself into, in front of Voldemort. Memories that varied from the horrifying, to the heart-stoppingly wonderful. But the more recent ones, viewed through the artificial calm of Occlumency, were the most disquieting : the hard look of distrust in Lily's white face as she came into the stone Circle. He knew she had witnessed everything, and from where _she_ was standing, it couldn't have looked too good.

But surely she could see that he'd done it for her? What other choice did he have? Remus Lupin would have disclosed the truth to Voldemort, whether he wanted to, or not. And he had seen enough of the Dark Lord to know that he would not have been lenient with Lily had he discovered what she had been up to in that cave.

And Lily herself was still adamantly committed to opposing the Dark Lord, even after seeing proof of how dangerously insane oracles and their custodians could be!

Severus growled in frustration, causing a couple of sleepy portraits to raise a disapproving eyebrow. If it hadn't been for Potter's interference, _he_ might have been the one to return back to Hogwarts with Lily!

He had managed to fool even the Dark Lord – that had been difficult enough, - and it would have needed little more persuasion to convince the Dark Lord that Lupin was worthless! Why did that Potter have turn up like some wand-waving hero in some moronic fairytale? And get away with it? No doubt Lily thought him a hero...she had insisted on saving his worthless carcass. Leaving him, Severus, to face Voldemort's wrath!

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down – it hadn't gone that way, it was just his green-eyed jealousy of Potter thinking that way. Lily had wanted him to go back with her. She had _pleaded_ with him. But he couldn't do that – he just couldn't leave Voldemort in the lurch like that. Lily always thought things were so simple! And besides, he didn't really know what she thought of him now, after what she had seen ... She had looked so upset and withdrawn when she accosted him – that's why he desperately needed to speak to her – before the insidious effects of time and distance started to wear away at those emotions that had restored so much hope to him, back in the cave.

He also wanted to see if she was alright, for there was this niggling fear, at the back of his mind, that the Oracle's affect had not entirely cleared out of her system somehow. He vaguely remembered hearing her shriek just before he lost consciousness – it could be that she had seen the stone topple over or something, he could not be sure, but there had been a note of despair in that scream that was part of the reason why he was feeling so uneasy about her.

He had arrived at the Hospital Wing. There was light under the great doors, which meant that Madam Pomfrey was up and about already. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the door and pushed it open with his left hand.

As his eyes adjusted to the relatively brighter lamp-lit room he saw Madam Pomfrey look up at him from where she had been bending over someone in bed. There were a couple of cubicles with curtains drawn, their occupants asleep, but otherwise, all was quiet in the hospital wing.

The look on Madam Pomfrey's face however, wasn't welcoming.

'And what brings you here, Mr Snape?' she said, throwing him a suspicious look. Her eyes immediately locked onto his right arm, but the expression on her face was anything but sympathetic.

'An accident –' he mumbled, but at that moment Madam Pomfrey moved, revealing who was in the bed she had been bending over.

James Potter had several blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his side, but the eyes behind his round spectacles were narrowed in hatred.

Hatred Severus returned with interest. He should've guessed he'd be here.

Madam Pomfrey looked swiftly from one to the other, then held out her hand.

'Your wand, please, Mr Snape.'

'Why?'

'I can smell the results of a duel from miles away, and I don't want any more spells flying around in here. Especially _dark_ spells, Mr Snape.'

Severus glared at her, unwilling to stay in the same room as that Gryffindor bastard unarmed.

'I won't say it again, Mr Snape. _Your wand_. From the looks of that fracture, any spell you attempt to cast with that arm will be dangerous through sheer incompetence, anyway! Now, if you want me to heal you, give me your wand!'

Fuming silently, but knowing he had no other choice, Severus put his hand in his belt and drew out his wand, keeping his eyes on Potter. Did _he_ have his wand taken too? Probably not. Not _Potter._

'Now, I want to get one thing clear,' Madam Pomfrey said, as she snatched Severus' wand away, 'Is this the Slytherin you said you encountered, Mr Potter?'

'I don't think I recognise him, Madam Pomfrey,' Potter replied in a malicious drawl 'I've never seen him so clean, you see. What kind of dirt were you trying to wash off, Snivellus? Your filthy conscience?'

'Stop it this instant, James!' Madam Pomfrey shouted, moving hastily between Severus and the bed, 'I won't have you continuing your duel here! I don't care what happened between you two – I just want to know what the counter-curse is! This is _Dark_ Magic, Mr Snape.'

'Is it? Oh dear, _James_, you've been bested by dark magic. And he says he hates it so, Madam Pomfrey. '

'Don't take that tone with me, young man!'There were two red spots in Pomfrey's cheeks 'You know it's dark magic because _you_ inflicted it on Mr Potter. May I remind you that it is not the first time this ward was filled with victims of your curses!'

Severus suppressed a vicious grin. Yes, indeed. He knew what she was referring to. The day James Potter had humiliated him in front of the whole school. Every one of those cruel, laughing toadies of Potter had felt his rage that day, when he had unleashed upon them the black flames of a dark spell. Potter himself had escaped with a mere gash along his jaw. It was the first time he had tried the Sectumsempra spell on a human, and it wasn't as perfect as he would have wanted, having aimed badly and without proper concentration.

Given that Potter had previously been trying to choke him on soap, he wasn't surprised the spell didn't cause the damage he would've wanted it to. Pomfrey had healed the gash, for it was superficial and barely more than a couple of inches in length, but a scar remained.

His lips twisted into a vindictive smile as his eyes fell on the thin, red line along Potter's jaw. It was usually invisible, but Potter was very pale because of the blood loss, and so it stood out more.

His smile widened. He had, since then, become much better at the Sectumsempra curse.

'I object to the word 'victims',' he said, turning to the matron 'They were nothing but a pack of hyenas out for blood! In any case, I fixed them, didn't I?'

'As you will again. I don't know what you hit Mr Potter with, but you'd better know the counter-curse, Mr Snape. Only Blood-replenishing Potion is keeping him alive: I've tried everything, but the wound won't heal!'

'My arm is broken and you've taken my wand, so I guess Potter will just have to get used to the taste of Blood-replenishing Potion! Pity it tastes like salty muck!'

Madam Pomfrey scowled at him. 'Just tell me the counter-curse.'

'I seem to have forgotten it.'

He gazed back at her defiantly. It had taken him months to perfect the spell, and even longer to find the counter-curse that worked. His dungeon hide out had been piled with bodies of dead mice and other vermin on whom he had practised both spell and counterspell. He wasn't going to just hand his work to her on a plate. Besides, she had just prodded into life the memory of that one hateful day when Lily had walked out of his life -and Potter was the trigger that had brought everything crashing about his ears.

'I'm not going to let that treacherous snake anywhere near me –' Potter was starting, but Madam Pomfrey shut him up.

'_You_ will do as I tell you. And _you_, Severus Snape, come over here and sit down. I never said I wouldn't mend your arm.'

Severus reluctantly followed an irate Madam Pomfrey to a bed opposite Potter's.

'Take off your clothes,' she snapped, handing him a pair of pyjamas.

'No.'

That would make him feel too vulnerable. He had always avoided having his body examined by the nurse. She would remark. Or, perhaps, having been almost nude in front of Potter was one time too many. Pomfrey was looking at him crossly. He pushed his sleeve up.

'You can mend it like this. I've seen you do it before.'

'It's not only your arm that is broken, Mr Snape – I know that posture and that breathing pattern. You've got broken ribs, too!'

Her wand flashed in front of his face and he felt a warm sensation pass through his body, settling hotly around the right part of his chest and arm.

'Two broken and three cracked ribs, Mr Snape. You're lucky the broken ones didn't damage your lung.'

She grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled his arm straight, setting the bones rather roughly. Madam Pomfrey wasn't one to mollycoddle students with potions to control pain, but Severus thought his attitude earned him a few unnecessary jabs to his broken arm.

Seeing a satisfied smile on Potter's face, he gritted his teeth against the stabbing pain as Madam Pomfrey muttered the Bone-Healing spell to set his bones fast, unwilling to give Potter more to be happy about.

When done, she handed him a steaming cupful of Skele-gro, and as he swallowed the bitter, burning potion, he saw Potter's smirk widen. Something of the hatred for that pampered bastard of a Gryffindor must have shown in his eyes, for Pomfrey stepped in front of him and blocked his view of the bed opposite.

'Now your chest, Mr Snape, take off your –'

'I'm not doing that!' he shouted suddenly 'And I'm not staying another minute in this room with _him_!'

'Suit yourself. Broken ribs can take months to heal.'

'The skele-gro'll help.'

'D'you think you know my job better than I do, Mr Snape?'

'You said you needed _me_ to cure Potter.'

'That's because what you hit him with is dark magic. May I remind you it could get you expelled!'

'Azkaban would be more fitting –' Potter contributed, looking at him venomously and meaningfully.

'No, Mr Potter, Azkaban is only for the worst crimes, but having completed six years of magical education, I'm sure you don't want to forfeit your last, Mr Snape.' Madam Pomfrey hardened her voice. 'And this time, Mr Tofty isn't around to put in a good word for you ...'

Severus glared at her. When he had so spectacularly unleashed that black fire on the laughing students the day Potter humiliated him, he had been given the choice of either going to the hospital wing and curing them, or foregoing his DADA OWL exam. He remembered Tofty had been unexpectedly interested to see his counter-curse. Just from an _academic _standpoint, of course, Tofty had hastened to explain. Nevertheless, he, Severus, had got an 'Outstanding' in his DADA OWL.

'I need my wand,' he told Pomfrey tersely.

There was one other thing that had weighed heavily on his mind ever since he'd seen Potter. Where was Lily? From Pomfrey's words she, Pomfrey, knew nothing about the events on the mountain, which meant that Potter and his cronies must have kept their mouths shut, but he needed to know if Lily was safe.

Pomfrey handed him over his wand and then moved over to Potter's bedside expectantly. He approached them, clutching his wand in his fist. His fingers were itching to cast a curse, rather than a healing spell, but Pomfrey knew exactly what was going through his mind, and was watching him like a hawk.

Potter, too, was watching him, his expression one of helpless rage – no doubt he hated being in such a vulnerable position. It gave Severus the only glimmer of pleasure in the whole unpleasant thing he was about to do. With a flick of her wand Pomfrey slit the bandages open so that a gaping wound in Potter's side was exposed.

Gritting his teeth, Severus passed his wand over the wound in a complex pattern and muttered the counter-curse in a low voice, aware that Pomfrey had leaned in closer. Probably neither of them would understand the words – they were in the ancient norse language, and chanting them enhanced the magic that had to penetrate very deeply into the flesh to undo the smiting damage of his own curse. He had designed the Sectumsempra spell to be lethal if aimed at the heart. Otherwise, the damage depended on what body part it slashed and the level of hatred the castor had for his enemy. Given he had been duelling Potter, the wound was lacerated and very deep. Pity he hadn't aimed better...

Potter had almost killed him.

The margins of the wound turned red as granulating tissue drew the margins of the wound together. He repeated the counter-curse twice more and the gaping, bloody wound slowly became covered in new skin, slightly depressed along the site of the laceration, and very inflamed, but otherwise intact. He hoped it still hurt.

'There – I'm done here. Dittany at this early stage should prevent any scarring.' He backed away from the bed, unwilling to endure the sight of Potter's pale flesh any longer, and even more, the idea that he had healed the undeserving bastard.

'You know what is strange?' Madam Pomfrey told him through pursed lips 'Healing magic usually requires a minimum of empathy with your patient for it to work well, but I saw nothing of the sort, neither now, nor when you were forced to heal your other victims last June... I don't know how you do it, Mr Snape.'

'Empathy?!' Potter snorted in disbelief 'He'd infuse my wound with poison, if he could get away with it!'

'Enough! I would have been happy to see even the merest glimmer of remorse in either of you during the healing, but I guess it's not going to happen. Or perhaps empathy doesn't work with _some_ kinds of magic!'

She glared at Severus as she said this, but he kept his mouth shut. Of course empathy didn't work with dark magic. It wasn't _needed._ He had designed it that way – Sectumsempra was for enemies, and he never expected to even _want_ to use its counter-curse, unless in dire straits. Like now. Empathy was not something you wasted on enemies.

Pomfrey was looking at him with an expression of exasperation mixed with something else: something that looked dangerously like pity. 'Last chance, Mr Snape: do you want me to heal the rest of your broken bones?'

He shook his head, scowling.

'Very well. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Since you healed Potter, we'll say no more of this unfortunate duel. After all, not a week goes by without several students ending up in here suffering from imaginative little hexes, botched ones, or even worse, from having tried, and failed, to cure themselves. I hope you won't one of the latter, Mr Snape. I'll get the dittany now.' And with a sigh, Pomfrey turned to the Store cupboard.

Seeing his chance, Severus took a swift step towards Potter.

'Where is she?' he whispered, vehemently.

'What do _you_ care?'

'Perhaps I don't. But I still want to know – where is she?'

'How did you persuade your master to let you go? Did you promise him what Lily Evans found out?'

'Lily Evans found out nothing. If you were sneaking up on the mountain long enough, you'd know even the Dark Lord is unaware of-'

'She hates you, you know?' James Potter's eyes narrowed vindictively, and he sat up in bed, pushing his face into Severus' 'She hates what you did tonight, and if it wasn't for me, she'd still be up there in that wretched place, –'

'Mr Snape! If you refuse my ministrations you have no further business in the Hospital wing!' Madam Pomfrey had returned with a bottle of dittany in her hand, to find them glowering at each other.

But Severus had heard enough. He turned on his heel and strode towards the door. So Lily had made it back to Hogwarts safely. For now, it was enough. He pushed Potter's hate-riddled words to the back of his mind and made his way silently down to the dungeons.

The Slytherin dorm was silent, even though a pale, watery, green light filtering through the lake and into the dorm window signalled that it was dawning. The other boys were still asleep, for it was Sunday and the curtains of their four-poster beds were drawn. He lay down gingerly on his own bed, his chest still sore, (even though, under the effects of skele-gro, much less painful).

For a while, he gazed at the old tapestries opposite his bed, his eyes drawn to the one of old Merlin pondering the many enchanted objects that littered his tapestry. The silver thread outlining the decorative metalwork on a small wooden casket embroidered at the bottom, right-hand corner of the tapestry, gleamed softly in the half-light. The whorls and spirals on that mysterious little casket was what had first set him thinking about how Combined Magic worked: how two people thus linked, as were Merlin and Nimue, were connected even through their wand's magic.*

Merlin and Nimue: their story had been a bittersweet one. Severus couldn't help drawing the parallel between himself and Lily: tonight had been such a strange mixture of ecstasy and fear ...

He sighed and closed his eyes, for he didn't know what to think any more.

Next thing he knew, someone was shaking him by the shoulder.

'Severus! Wake up!'

He woke with a start and sat up in bed, but a sharp, stabbing pain reminded him his ribs were still unhealed. He winced, biting off an oath and propped himself up more slowly.

'What d'you want, Evan?'

Rosier was standing over his bed, his dark-blue eyes dancing with amusement.

'Never, in all these years, have I ever seen you oversleep so long – it's almost noon!'

'_What_?!'

'Where've you been?' Rosier pushed back his thick, wavy hair and his eyes looked pointedly at his robes. He had fallen asleep with his clothes on. The dorm was empty except for Rosier and himself.

'Nowhere.'

'Well, 'nowhere' must be pretty dangerous. Cracked ribs, isn't it?'

Severus scowled at Rosier. He swung his feet of the bed and stood up slowly, the movement sending twinges of pain through his chest which he tried not to show.

'Look- I know it's not a simple bruise that's got you hunched up like that, Severus. D'you want me to fix it? I can, you know – my mother taught me how. You know she's got this arsenal of healing potions and spells...'

Severus nodded stiffly. He had spent some time in the Rosiers sprawling, crumbling estates and Mrs Rosier was frequently called upon to fix the many injuries of the extended Rosier clan. Many injuries which they wanted to keep secret from the prying eyes of the healers at St Mungo's. But he wanted Rosier even less than Pomfrey, examining his chest or back. There were marks there even less savoury than broken ribs, for he had borne the brunt of his father's excesses too many times.

'Thanks, but I'm fine,' he mumbled.

Rosier shrugged. 'They say the Dark Mark was seen over the mountains beyond Hogsmeade. It was in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning.'

'Really? I guess I missed the morning post.'

But as he made his way past Rosier, the latter quickly passed his wand over him the same way Pomfrey had done and he felt the same hot sensation around his ribs – it was a diagnostic spell of some sort.

'What the hell are you doing, Evan?!'

Rosier tut-tutted like an old biddy. 'Fair bit of damage you got there: two broken ribs and three cracked, though the latter seem to be healing already. How d'you -?'

'I duelled with Potter, okay? Now stop fussing and get your nose out of my affairs!'

'Oh, that's all?' Rosier looked disappointed, having probably thought he'd know something more about the Dark Mark. Well, he knew quite a bit, but right now, he didn't feel like explaining to Rosier, or anyone else, anything about some of the events on Ben Cόrhveinn .

'So that's why the Mudblood came then,' Rosier was speaking more to himself now, but Severus, who was already on his way to the door, stopped dead in his tracks.

'What are you talking about?'

'The Gryffindor Prefect. She came looking for you earlier. She had the impudence to come right up to the Slytherin common room!'

'What'd she say?'

'Well, she spoke to Bertram – he's our Prefect, so he was obliged to speak to her. I heard her ask him whether you were here. It was barely 7 o'clock, and it's Sunday, so I found that a bit suspicious. Bertram did too, but she said there'd been a disturbance during the night, yet wouldn't go into details. She left as soon as Bertram said you're still asleep.'

Lily had come looking for him and he'd been asleep! Mentally cursing himself, he turned to leave the dorm.

'Is she out to avenge Potter, you think?' Rosier asked following him to the door, 'I'm sure you didn't leave him without giving as good as you got, after what he did to you. And the curses _you _know...'

'Yeah, perhaps she came to avenge Potter,' Severus replied, in a deadpan voice.

His mind was suddenly in overdrive: why had she come? What did she want to tell him? Why the hell did he have to be asleep!? He was an incurable insomniac, and yet that one moment it counted, he had to be bloody _asleep!?_ What if she really had come because of Potter? If they came back to Hogwarts together, she must have seen Potter's wound and would quickly understand who'd done it. Potter seemed to think _he_ was the one to have saved Lily. Had he convinced her of this somehow? He'd played the part of Quidditch champion for so long, the part of hero would be easy to assume. Perhaps Lily _wanted_ to see Potter a hero: certainly he must have appeared so to her: defying the Dark Lord himself, rescuing Lupin and sacrificing himself in the process! Brash, brave and the very epitome of a Gryffindor hero... whereas he, Severus, who had managed to defy the Dark Lord too, but in such a subtle way that even the Dark Lord himself did not notice, had came out of it looking vindictive, treacherous, and everything else Lily had not wanted to see in him.

It could hardly be otherwise from her point of view. He growled in frustration as he strode along the dark corridors beyond the Slytherin dorm, across the common room and outside into the dungeon.

Perhaps Lily had come to ask him to cure poor Potter's bleeding wounds, perhaps she had come to tell him what a betraying bastard he was, and that she hated him now!

Or perhaps, just perhaps... she wanted to see if he had made it back from the mountain ...

But he didn't let his mind wander in that direction. Severus Snape had long learned to expect the worst. It was one way of coping with the sting of disappointment when things eventually _did_ work out even worse than he had expected. It would be the same with Lily. He remembered that up on Ben Cόrhveinn, even at the end, before Potter had attacked him, she had pleaded with him to return to Hogwarts with her, yet at the same time, there had been a hopeless, hollow note to her voice that he knew he was responsible for.

There was only one way to find out.

He had to speak to Lily and he had to speak to her now, before, with the passing hours, she distanced herself from what had happened, as she had done before, by retreating into the protective cold shell of politeness and false indifference.

* * *

><p>...<p>

* Chapter 132 of '_Lily and the Half-Blood Prince'_

_..._

**Grown Up Ron**: _"Since this is canon based you might want to write out Snape "saving" james. We know for a fact it didn't happen because we know for a fact Snape owed James a life debt not the other way around_. _"_

We see the HP books through Harry's eyes. Harry knows about the James 'saving' Severus incident because Dumbledore (and later, Remus) told him about it when he, Harry, asked Dumbledore why Snape hated him. Dumbledore could not tell him the real truth, so he told him about this instead, a half-truth . Snape himself spoke to Harry about the saving incident , but from his pov, it was NOT an altruistic act on James' part, but just James simply wanting to prevent his own, and his friends, expulsion.

Thus, even at this point, we have two different povs.

We, the readers, know as 'canon' only that which we see through Harry's eyes, and what he learns from people around him.

Therefore, the above incident is only one we know about, that happened in **one** day out of the **many years** of backstory no-one knows the details of. Thus, this one 'saving' incident does not exclude the fact that there may have been another, or several other, similar, _but unknown_ incidents, during which James saved Snape's life again, or was, conversely, saved by Snape, or else played another life-threatening prank, or the many other possibilities left to fic-writers' imagination to interpret and fill in. Note that in this fic, Snape saved James because Lily insisted.

"_Also as a Prefect Lily has an obligation to tell Dumbledore everything that has happened.''_

Remus Lupin was also a Prefect, yet he never told Dumbledore his friends were unregistered animagi who regularly let loose a werewolf upon an unsuspecting public just for fun and the thrill of 'near misses'.

A story does not always have to be moralistic tale of walking the straight and narrow, but about how a character might act in a particular situation, irrespective of whether it is right or wrong, whether mistaken or correct. This is the way I see Lily acting under these circumstances. Another Prefect, like Percy Weasely, would, indeed, have gone straight to the authorities.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 17: Our Worst Nightmares.**

Severus spent all afternoon searching the corridors and grounds for Lily, but could see no sign of her. Everywhere was crowded with students, because the storm of the night had given to way to a fine day and many were out spending their Sunday afternoon enjoying the sunshine and long hours of the first day of May.

Finally, he made his way to the seventh floor corridor where the Fat Lady's portrait hung, with half a mind to ask some passing Gryffindor about her. He hadn't been anywhere near the Gryffindor common room since last June, but in the end, he got cold feet, for he couldn't forget what had transpired in that corridor then. Besides, the news of the Dark Mark over the distant mountains had filtered through the student grapevine, and passing Gryffindors glared at him or else whispered fearfully among themselves, automatically assuming, that, as a Slytherin, he or his friends would be connected to any Death Eater murder.

Or perhaps they'd got wind that he had sent their Quidditch Champion, Potter, to the Hospital wing.

He glared back at them, wishing he could tell them that Potter had asked for what he got and that it was their own Gryffindor Prefect who had triggered the events that had ultimately led to the death of that crazy old wizard. But Lily wouldn't thank him for that – nor for starting a fight outside her common-room. Anyhow, he glimpsed Mary MacDonald come out of the portrait hole, and judging by her expression as soon as she saw him, (and her immediately jumping back inside), he guessed Lily was in the Gryffindor common-room too.

So he turned back silently and headed for the stairs, ignoring the twinges of pain in his ribs. Perhaps Lily was resting – after the events of the night, Merlin knew she needed it! He'd have to be patient.

Patience was not an easy thing for Severus Snape at the best of times, and as he picked over the night's events again and again in his mind, his sense of foreboding increased. Lily had seen him stun Remus, she'd heard him tell the Dark Lord of a plot – the more he thought about it, the more he thought it must have seemed like base treachery in her eyes. She would never understand he had no other way of getting her out of that mess unscathed. And yet... Lily had come looking for him. He clung to that one thread of hope for he knew there could be no other. At least, even if the reason she came looking for him that morning was not the one he hoped for – it did, at least, give him a reason for seeking her.

It was evening when he finally found her. He stood waiting in the crowded Entrance Hall knowing she would not ignore her Prefect duties, whatever happened, and Sunday evening was a notorious time for high spirits, idleness, house tensions and magic to come together in an explosive mixture.

Sure enough, he saw her patrolling the first-floor corridor as students returned from supper. She was leaning over the balustrade of the great marble staircase, her hair falling about her face in coppery curtains as she bent over, following the progress of a group of first-years up the staircase.

She looked up at that instant and somehow, although the Hall was packed with students, her eyes unerringly fixed on his. It was only a split second, for she was soon speaking to the young first-years and ushering them on. Severus couldn't tell if she was angry, disgusted or coldly indifferent when she looked at him. Potter's words _'__'She hates you, you know...She hates what you did tonight'_ came back to him forcefully and froze him in his tracks. What if Potter were right?

He was so shocked it took him a few seconds to realise Lily had disappeared. He broke into a run, pushing students aside and then ran up the marble steps two at a time, swearing softly as his broken ribs were jarred achingly to life again.

He didn't see her at the top of the stairs, but thought he'd seen her take the direction of the first-years, so he tore down the corridor to the right, clutching his chest. He soon caught up with the young students, who looked up at him with wide, apprehensive eyes. Lily was nowhere to be seen. His fear was turning to frustration.

'Where's your Prefect?' he barked at the little ones.

'She's not our Prefect,' piped up one little boy with a shock of carrot-red hair, 'We're Ravenclaws!'

'I don't care if you're Cornish Pixies!' Severus growled 'Where is she?'

His frustration was fast turning into anger now. What was Lily playing at? She couldn't ignore him anymore. Not _now_.

'She was right behind us, and then she disappeared,' a small girl with dark hair and protruding eyes explained, 'Perhaps she knows how to disapparate even here at Hogwarts. They say she's very clever...'

But Severus was already retracing his steps. There was a shortcut further down: a narrow corridor leading off from a recessed space housing a suit of armour. It linked the first floor to the next level up, ending behind a tapestry on the second floor, and it was the only explanation for Lily's 'disappearance' – not many first-years knew about it. He did, however. Lily probably thought she'd escape him that way, but he bloody well wasn't going to give up so easily!

It was very dark in the narrow passageway, but to his surprise, Severus saw a faint blue light about ten yards ahead, where the passageway curved sharply to the left before coming to some steep steps. There was no sign of Lily of course – she wouldn't be so stupid as to try and hide down a short-cut both of them knew very well. But when Severus rounded the corner, he saw a single, small, bluebell flame hover for a split second in front of a half-open broom-cupboard door before going out and plunging him into darkness. Instinctively, his hand went to the wand in his belt – a couple of unpleasant ambushes had occurred in this narrow passageway after curfew recently. Back in the days when Hogwarts was built, this corridor was for servants and house-elves, and the broom cupboard had double-doors, the inner one leading, if he remembered correctly, to the Muggle Studies Classroom on the first floor, a place he avoided like the plague, for he saw enough of Muggle life in the holidays to last him a lifetime.

With the small blue flame extinguished, he was in a dark and almost absolute silence, for he was far enough down the passageway for the bustle of students to be no more than a distant rumble. Only his heart beat loudly in his aching ribcage – but something about that bluebell flame stopped him in his tracks. Could he possibly have caught up with her? Was she hiding in there?

Pushing the door open with his hand he entered the small broom cupboard, carefully avoiding Filch's brooms and mops, and approached the second door, further in, the one that led to the Muggle Studies Classroom. A blue sliver of light shone beneath the door. He pushed it open.

Lily stood there. Not in front of the door or in the middle of the classroom, but at the point furthest away from where he had just entered from, and she was facing it, taut as a spring, as though some dreaded creature might emerge from it. Her expression was closed and unreadable. In a Muggle Tupperware plastic bowl on one of the desks, bluebell flames such as the ones he himself had conjured back in the raven's cave, illuminated the room in a dim blue glow.

The Raven's cave. He took two steps towards her then stopped. She didn't back away or advance. She just stood there, looking at him steadily. He couldn't tell whether she was angry or hurt or frightened at his presence. Even her body language gave away nothing he recognised. He could hardly believe this was the same witch who had kissed him so passionately yesterday night! She looked like a statue. And yet it was something he was unfortunately familiar with, and the frustration that had been building up all day spilt over.

'You can't hide from me forever, Lily!' An unmistakeable note of desperation laced his angry words, and they echoed loudly in the empty classroom.

'Hide from you?'

'You know what I mean!' With a few strides he crossed the classroom till he stood before her, his simmering rage now barely under control. 'Don't start that again!'

'Start what?' Startled green-blue eyes looked up at him from a wan face.

'Pretend nothing ever happened! Pretend I don't exist; try to forget me!'

'I'm pretending nothing of the sort!' Lily cut across him, her voice raised in sudden anger, 'I was waiting for you!'

Severus shut up, taken completely by surprise.

'I left you a sign!' Lily continued tersely, indicating the bluebell flames.

Severus' anger dissipated completely. Now that he was close to her, he could see that her hand, as it indicated the bluebell flames, was trembling slightly, and she looked nervous and weary as well as angry. But there was something else – something he recognised immediately, now that he was close to her: there was _hurt_ in those eyes turned so accusingly onto him.

His eyes slid shut, and he let his breath out in a silent sigh. How was he going to even begin to explain? This wasn't going as planned – not that he actually _planned_ anything, but certainly he didn't want to start by shouting at her. He stood in awkward silence for a few seconds then:

'Look, Lily,' he started 'I know what you heard may have sounded –'

But she stopped him with one whispered question:

'Why, Sev, _why_?'

Her voice quivered and her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. What she must have intended as a tone of righteous anger had completely deserted her, and what came through instead was the intensity of her disillusionment.

At that moment, Severus would have preferred her to be angry with him – even a tone of cold indifference - anything rather than the raw hurt he could sense in her words. It was worse than he imagined – he thought she might have understood what made him approach Voldemort yesterday night, but apparently he'd done nothing but lose her trust completely.

He could hardly believe it was only yesterday that she told him '_I trust you_' before placing her hand in his.

He swallowed drily. 'I know it looked bad, Lily, but I had no other choice, and I had to act quickly. I _had to_ go to him - the Dark Lord is a great Legilimens,' he started, speaking firmly, for Lily had to see he had nothing to hide, 'and Lupin would've –'

'I know, I _know_,' Lily interrupted, with a touch of impatience 'Remus wouldn't have resisted You-know-who's assault in his mind and he would've given the game away, so you stunned him. Though perhaps, if you hadn't tied him up in the _first_ place, he wouldn't have found him!'

'Is this about Remus Lupin?!'

'I'm just saying –'

'Look, I tied him up back in the cave because he would've never let me follow you! And I wasn't about to let Lupin do something stupid, as he seemed to have every intention of doing. Lily, I had no idea the Dark Lord was on Ben Cόrhveinn , too!'

She looked at him in silence, her eyes gleaming large and dark in the dim blue light.

'And – and I had to tell him about a plot, Lily. When the Dark Lord said he knew about Earth Magic and about its presence in that mountain cave, I knew it is what he _expected _to hear. I knew he would invade my mind and I –' he gave a small sigh 'I only dared let him see something that could _plausibly_ be true or half-true. Anything else, and he wouldn't believe me.'

'So you just let him see Remus and Mendrick.'

'It was already too late for Lupin. And as for Mendrick, I suspected the Dark Lord knew him, since he said he was long familiar with Ben Cόrhveinn and its magic, even though the mountain refused him entry. So when he entered my mind I let him see Mendrick, alone, raving wildly in the chamber, knowing that not even _he_ would decipher the strange language, much less Lupin.'

'So you think he would've let Remus go, just like that?! He would've _killed_ him, Severus!'

'Did _you_ have any better idea, at the time?'

She shook her head slowly.

'I did the best I could. Those Standing Stones were some sort of magical shield – there was no other way. So yes, the Dark Lord would've been angry to find someone conspiring against him – who wouldn't, under the circumstances? But if the Dark Lord didn't kill that bloody bastard, Potter, he wouldn't have killed Lupin, either! Even after Potter _defied_ him and was stupid enough to get himself caught, he didn't kill him. On the contrary, -.'

'He's a Pureblood!'

Severus looked at Lily closely. Her chin jutted out angrily, and her brows were furrowed.

'What does that have to do with anything?'

'A lot and nothing. Voldemort –'

'Don't say his name!'

'Taboos have no effect at Hogwarts.'

'How can you be sure?'

'I - I just am,' she retorted 'Dumbledore wouldn't allow it. At least this is one place where You-know-who can't plant his sordid little spells wherever and on whomsoever he likes!'

Severus said nothing. Lily stood before him with her arms crossed, angrier than she'd been since he entered the room. What in Merlin's name did she mean by that? Why was she still so angry? He explained why he'd acted that way yesterday – he'd risked his life for her, trying to keep everyone's mind from being read, especially after that fool Potter had burst in upon the scene… Had the truth been discovered, he, Severus, would have borne the brunt of the Dark Lord's displeasure more than anyone else on the mountaintop, for he was the only one who was actually betraying Voldemort at that time! And all this because of her. He couldn't understand why she looked so flushed with anger now, and why she wouldn't look at him. After all, she herself admitted that she'd had no better idea at the time, so what else was she blaming him for? Was it just the shock of seeing him talk to the Dark Lord? The way she spoke when she asked him if he was branded with the Dark Mark, made him suspect it. That was a rather unfair overreaction, even if she disagreed with Voldemort's policies.

The silence spiralled uncomfortably between them as he racked his brain for clues. Lily's head was bent over her crossed arms and she was prodding a broken Muggle fountain-pen on the floor angrily back and forth with her shoe.

'Is it because you think the Dark Lord is only interested in Purebloods?' he asked, going back to her odd remark.

Lily did not answer him, but the increased tenseness around her hunched shoulders and the savage rolling back and forth of the plastic remnants of the fountain-pen indicated she had heard him.

'Because it's not true,' he continued 'the Dark lord is interested in preserving magic, where that magic deserves to be preserved.'

Lily had stopped the worrying motion with her foot and stood perfectly still now, her head bent so that her hair covered her face. Her stillness was unnatural –like the calm before the storm, and it unnerved Severus. For the first time, he put out his hand to touch her arm.

'Lily, I know you don't want to hear propaganda speeches – so what's _wrong_!?'

Lily jumped away from his touch as though burnt, and when she looked up at him, he could tell, even in the dim light, that her cheeks were flushed angrily, though her eyes glistened betrayingly.

'Oh no, on the contrary, please _do_ go on' she said in an unnaturally high voice, 'I would love to hear what your master has in mind for 'your red-headed Muggleborn friend' – that's what Voldemort called me, didn't he? _I do not intend that you should give up on that Muggleborn witch' _he told you_._ Not now that I can be soon be so useful to him – that our_ Combined magic_ can be so useful to him. Merlin, Severus, how could you?!'

Severus; face had drained of all colour. 'I – I thought you knew by now … that you realised...' he said, in a barely audible voice, 'That – that Christmas day, when that wandless spell revealed everything, you saw- you said you saw the Dark Lord and I – '

'I _felt_ – not saw. It was a Legilimency of feelings, remember? I _felt_ your admiration for Voldemort, I _felt_ your sense of urgency and fear about a secret plan that involved me– I just did not know the _details._ I thought it was just a plan to get me to join forces with him, but I never imagined you'd go and tell _Voldemort _about our combined magic. It was _our _secret, Sev!'

'No – No, Lily you've got it all wrong!'

'Got it all wrong?! _Got it all wrong_?!' Lily's voice rose shrilly and she started pacing back and forth angrily, words tumbling out of her mouth like she couldn't say them fast enough, 'I was _there_, Severus, there, on that damned mountain, hearing every word! Long ago, you swore me to secrecy about the nature of our magic, and yet you go and tell _him_! Voldemort!' Her voice echoed loudly in the empty classroom and she flashed him an enraged look.

'Lily-' but Severus couldn't get a word in edgewise.

'I had suspected it, of course,' she cut across him, speaking fast and furiously '– why else would a Pureblood supremacist like You-Know-Who be interested in a Mudblood like me? But I was too damn blind to _want_ to believe what I suspected! I was too ...' her voice quivered momentarily 'damn it all, Severus, how could you use me like this?'

'I didn't! I –'

'You did! I'm a means to an end for you! Voldemort sees in me – in us and our magic – a Death Eater weapon! And you offered me up to him!' Lily's eyes flashed dangerously, 'What's he giving you in return? A career? A rank your half-blood status doesn't entitle you to? Or – or something more sordid? What did he promise you?'

'Your life!' Severus shouted vehemently, grabbing her by the shoulders, 'Bloody hell, can't you see -?!'

But the instant he touched her, Lily pushed him away forcefully with both hands 'You're lying!' she choked.

Severus didn't answer her. He let out a stifled gasp of pain, having been caught off-guard by her action. He closed his eyes and clutched his chest, not daring even to breathe as the searing pain from his ribcage shot through his chest.

When he opened his eyes again, Lily was looking up at him with wide, horrified eyes, hands clamped round her mouth.

'God, Sev – he _tortured _you! He tortured you for letting James Potter get away!' the muffled words from behind her hands were no longer angry. If anything, they were tinged with guilt and something akin to pity.

The latter was always sure to elicit a prickly reaction from Severus.

'No, he didn't!' he bit out tersely, holding his chest, for breathing was painful 'You jump so easily to the bloody wrong conclusions where it suits you! The broken bones are a gift from Potter himself, so don't drag the Dark Lord into it!'

Lily said nothing but let her hands fall limply by her side, her expression wary, but not angry anymore. But he certainly was. Very Angry. Not only because he hated betraying any weakness – especially one inflicted by Potter – in front of her, but also because her words had cut to the quick. He had been through hell and back for her, yet she only saw him (as she did that first time in the cave) selling her out to Voldemort. He saw her eyes travel to his chest, her hands fidgeting nervously until she quelled them by the simple expedient of crossing her arms.

Scowling, he straightened up, taking his arm off his chest and ignoring the pain, which had settled to a steady throb around his sternum.

'W- when you said You-Know-Who promised you my life,' Lily started, not quite meeting his eyes 'What did you mean, exactly?'

There it was. The question he knew he should not answer.

'The Dark Lord swore me to secrecy.'

'You told me you were sworn to secrecy when I asked you what it was you feared last June. Is it him you fear, then?'

'No, it is not. It is for _you_ I fear, Lily.'

'Secrecy be damned! It's too late now. What did he promise you, Severus?!'

He knew she was trying to harden her voice. Trying to find something to hate, perhaps. Or _expecting_ to hear something to hate. Suddenly he felt incredibly weary.

'He promised me your life as you know it,' he said, 'In the Magic world, not the Muggle one.'

'My magic, in return for my soul.'

'Don't be melodramatic!'

'I'm not. You didn't ask anything for yourself, you asked You-Know-Who for _my_ status in his ranks... You thought the day would come when I'd be grateful for it, and –'

'I didn't _think_ that the day would come – I _know_ that the day _will_ come. Not when you'll be grateful,' he added with a bitter laugh, 'I can see that will never happen, but I _know_ that the Dark Lord will win this war, and you'll need protection.'

'_Protection?_! Protection by persuading me to join that snake-faced, evil ...' Lily paused, for words seemed to fail her 'How could you ever think I would ever use my magic – _our_ magic – for his purposes?! How could you ever think I'd be persuaded?!' she paused and buried her face in her trembling hands for a second, 'Merlin, but you _did_ come close, at one point!' When she looked at him again, there was just a forlorn kind of puzzlement her eyes 'Why did you do it?' she repeated her question from earlier.

'It was the best solution, under the circumstances.'

'Circumstances _you_ created.'

Severus stifled a sigh his sore ribcage couldn't cope with.

'Perhaps I have. I don't know,' he passed his hand wearily over his face. 'It was my idea to use Combined Magic that day by the sea, after all. That's when it happened – during that storm in Asby-St-Cuthberts. But it's not what you think, Lily - I never told the Dark Lord about our Combined Magic. _The Dark Lord saw us_. He recognised our Shared Magic for what it was when we used it to stun that Giant. He even knew we had used Combined Magic to stop the Cursed Clouds during that storm. He knew about the existence of Shared Magic, just as yesterday he knew about that obscure Earth Magic. He knows _everything_!'

As he spoke, Lily's expression became more stricken, and she was looking at him with one hand to her mouth, her eyes wide as she realised what he was saying.

'_You didn't tell him…_ Oh, God, Sev, I – I didn't know,' she said in a tremulous voice 'I had forgotten -I didn't think he could've seen us!'

Her hand came out as though to touch him, but she stopped half way, as though thinking better of it, and pulled it back.

'What happened?' she whispered, her eyes fixed on his face.

'He summoned me. The Dark Lord is passionate about magic in all its obscure and myriad forms. You heard him yesterday. Ours is a rare and unusual skill. He wanted me to find out more...'

'Why didn't you refuse? Why did you go to him in the first place? That was the first time you met Voldemort face-to-face, I gather?

Severus said nothing but stared at her in exasperation – everything was so black-and-white for Lily, so simple, so Gryffindorian death-in-defiance! Couldn't she see the myriad consequences of one single careless action? One single mistake.

'I didn't know_ why_ he wanted to speak to me, although I had my fears. But besides that, I did not want to pass up the opportunity to speak to the greatest wizard of our time. You know what I think about it and I don't want to repeat it!'

He ended rather harshly - too harshly. Lily started, and her eyes glistened with tears. _Fuck_. He didn't mean to be so brutal about it, but he couldn't understand her extreme abhorrence – especially now she knew the Dark Lord had been so accommodating in her regards.

'I – I can understand why you didn't want to refuse Voldemort's instructions,' Lily said, taking in a deep breath, 'I imagine he threatened you, didn't he?'

She was trying to meet him half-way. He tried to control the bitterness in his voice.

'No, he didn't. But someone else did,' he started, pacing the room restlessly, 'Look, Lily – apart from magical skill, the Dark Lord appreciates loyalty – inordinately so: he does not tolerate traitors, and I've seen for myself his anger when betrayed. It's terrible to behold. I guess it's his one fault –' Lily gave him a look that clearly indicated she disagreed with the 'one' fault, and would probably have supplied a list of others, but Severus continued quickly before she could say anything, 'Given that he's a great Legilimens, he's almost always sure of the loyalty of those closest to him, and, as I said, he seems to know everything.'

He stopped his pacing and turned to face Lily. 'Or almost everything...'

Lily looked at him questioningly.

'He doesn't know about ... us,' he said, quietly.

'The leer on his face when he spoke about us having a 'falling out' tells a different story.'

'Yes, that's the way he saw our 'friendship' and I let him believe it: - an unimportant, but mutually convenient, teenage lust, with side-benefits for the war effort...' Severus moved a couple of paces to stand squarely in front of Lily 'But that's not what I meant, when I said the Dark Lord doesn't know about us... Lily ... look at me.'

Lily's head was bent, her dark hair throwing her face in blue-black shadow and her arms were tightly wrapped around herself. Surely she couldn't have forgotten? Surely she still remembered when their souls had been magically merged together, that one Christmas afternoon, that what he felt for her – what they felt for one another – was far beyond the pale of what Voldemort – or anyone else – could imagine, and there was no way they could have hidden or lied about it. He had thought, perhaps, that over this past year it had dimmed, but yesterday, in the Raven's cavern, he had seen it was still as strong as ever.

Lily still hadn't moved. Severus' heart fluttered uncomfortably in his chest and he moved closer to her, bending his head to try and see her expression beneath her shadowing hair.

'You know what I mean, don't you?' he whispered.

Then throwing caution to the wind, he placed his hand around her face, tilting it up. He half-expected she'd jump away again or slap his hands away, but when her eyes came up to meet his there was a single tear quivering on her lashes.

'Yes,' she said.

Her tone was firm, but there was so much sadness concentrated in that tiny little word, that it took Severus by surprise. He took his hand away, puzzled and worried at this sudden change.

'I – I was threatened,' he started, not knowing what to say 'Someone suspected there was more to our friendship than meets the eye, and that I would do anything – _anything_ – to keep you safe, and away from it all, and –' he stopped, for the single tear that had trembled on her lashes now trickled slowly down her cheek, yet still she remained silent, large sad eyes gazing up at him.

He sighed, remembering how Mulciber's threats had seemed so real then – coming soon after he'd witnessed the unfortunate traitor Prewitts' gruesome death at Bellatrix's hands.

'The Dark Lord was to be told that my loyalty lies with you and not with him, and I believed it would ruin everything then, for I'd hoped, given that he knew of our Combined Magic, that it would be that self-same magic that would guarantee your safety. But I was threatened with betrayal, and that others would use harsh methods to coerce you into joining. I just didn't know how far the threats were true...'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I was sworn to secrecy, but more than that, I knew that anything I told you will be known to Dumbledore, and from him, to the Order members and possibly others. _They_ would want to use our skills too. Our secret would be whispered far and wide and come back to the ears of he who had first demanded it.'

'I wouldn't have told Dumbledore, if you didn't want me to.'

'You don't need to. He's a Legilimens. Your mind is an open book for him. There are few wizards skilled in that art, and Dumbledore's one of them, as is the Dark Lord. Yesterday on Ben Cόrhveinn you've seen how dangerous it is! It can vary from a subtle intrusion into your mind that you're not even aware of, to something – something-'

'- something that leaves you bleeding and senseless. Yes, I saw. Voldemort did that to you! Dumbledore would never be so cruel!'

'Dumbledore will do exactly the same thing! He has his own private agenda for this war and for those students involved in it – only he does it _nicely_, with sugar-coated Legilimency and lemon sherbets!'

'Dumbledore's the most upright, kind and honest wizard in the world!' Lily's expression had hardened as soon as he said those words about Dumbledore (and he knew he had absolutely no hard evidence for saying what he did: it was just a feeling he got when looking into those twinkling blue eyes), 'I know you don't trust him, but the Headmaster would never hurt me, or any other student, even if the _earth_ depended upon it!'

'Listen to me – yesterday, in that Standing Stone Circle, I was at my wits' end trying to keep everybody's mind from being read, especially when Potter turned up. Even _you_ can't deny how dangerous Legilimency is! Even this conversation is dangerous – it can be dredged out of your mind so _easily_...'

'I – I don't want to get you into trouble, Sev, whatever you may think.'

'Bloody hell, this isn't about me – this is about _you_! Yesterday, you were a hair's breadth away from being discovered! You've got to be more careful. Legilimency is the most powerful, yet most underestimated, of all magic arts! You ... you should learn Occlumency.'

'What?'

'Occlumency – then you can protect yourself from Dumbledore, and – and the Dark Lord. I- ' he threw out his hands in a helpless gesture 'I don't know what else to do: sooner or later you will appear in front of both one and the other, and -'

'I can't learn Occlumency!'

'Why ever not?'

'I – I don't think I'll be any good. I don't think I will be able to look at Voldemort so calmly like you did when he read your mind and left you bleeding! I – I don't think I'm able to close off my mind like that! But I'm...' her eyes flickered up to his '...I'm glad you did, Sev. For everyone's sake.'

He shook his head slowly. 'I did it for you.'

'I know,' she answered sadly, 'I know you don't care about the others.'

'I don't care about many 'others'. But the particular ones you're referring to, have already tried to kill me once - worse than kill me - so excuse me for not tearing my hair out over their fate! You, on the other hand...'

He fell silent, for the words that had hovered on his lips were threatening to choke him up. If anything happened to her...

'You, on the other hand,' he spoke more gently and placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning closer so she could see the sincerity in his eyes 'mean everything to me. Do you remember my Boggart?'

She blinked, then nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. 'There was a dark-haired witch at first...she resembled your mother.'

'My Great-Aunt. She was unwittingly embroiled in a dark story and sacrificed in a gruesome ritual the night Severus Prince killed himself. I saw this memory in Madeira's pensieve. The scene haunted my dreams for some time because it bore parallels to what was threatening to happen to you. The Boggart picked on that.'

He felt the warm shoulders twitch beneath his hands.

'I thought I was the Blood sacrifice in a Death Eater ritual,' she said 'I was wrong, wasn't I?'

'That Blood Sacrifice ritual pre-dated Death Eaters by many years. The Boggart picks on your worst fears – and your death was my worst fear, Lily.'

His hands involuntarily tightened round her shoulders as the image of the Boggart Lily came before his minds eyes, arms outstretched in a sacrificial position, dark blood oozing from a wound over her heart. He felt her tremble beneath his tightening hands.

'Your death is _still_ my worst fear' he murmured grimly 'Yesterday proved it, for you came close.'

'So did you, Sev, and – and I'm sorry I was the cause of it, and I ...' she blinked rapidly '... I didn't know. I just didn't know about the threats. I didn't know what you were facing. I just thought you didn't trust me.'

'I tried to keep you out of all of it, Lily, but it just got so impossibly complicated after the Dark Lord found out about our Shared Magic...'

'So yesterday, you offered yourself up to Voldemort instead of me,' Lily's voice trembled slightly and the shiny trail of the tear-streak still glistened on her cheek 'But was that the only reason, Severus? When you offered Voldemort your loyalty and your skills – you meant that too, didn't you?'

There it was - a question the answer to which would push her away from him. It had done so before, and it would again, for he could change that answer even less now, than when she had first heard him utter his intentions to be loyal to Voldemort.

He fell silent and let his hands fall from her shoulders. Lily's face crumpled and another tear slid down her cheek as she found her answer in the anguished silence echoing between them.

'It's not so easy ... Look, I'm in too deep anyway!'

'So you told me last June! But you're not, Sev!' there was a note of desperation in her voice as she suddenly grabbed his hand and drew it to her, pushing his sleeve up. It was his left arm. 'You're not marked yet! You don't belong to him!'

'So who should I belong to then? There are only two sides to this war, Lily – you're either on one side or the other. Not joining either side is a coward's option, and I won't do it! I admit the Dark Lord's plans and ideals are far from perfect: whose ideas ever were, in all wizarding history? But at least he's trying to change things, while the Ministry's only trying to stifle and destroy magic through mismanagement and sheer incompetence. How can I ever side with _them?_ How can I ever want to go back to this?' he swung his arms around, indicating the many pictures and posters of mundane Muggle life that hung on the classroom walls.

Lily gave a cursory glance at the pictures of bare light bulbs, vacuum cleaners, drills and typewriters that hung on the Muggle Studies classroom walls, and when her eyes returned to him there was an understanding look in them. Too understanding. She knew exactly what kind of Muggle place he did not want to go back to. She had seen it. He looked away, feeling his cheeks burn with shame. She probably thought his background had affected his choices. Well, it had, but only in part. There were other reasons. Besides, his choices had been forced onto him prematurely - almost before he realised he had any choice at all. It was so unfair! Why were things always so hopelessly complicated for him? But the prickling of a rising anger disappeared completely by Lily's next words:

'You asked who you should belong to...' Lily was saying. He dragged his eyes back to her and found her looking up at him sadly. 'Yesterday, in that cave, I thought that perhaps I could answer that question for you. I thought the answer to that question could've been...well, could've been _me_.' Her voice quivered slightly but her eyes, their pupils large and dark in the dim light, were fixed unwaveringly on his, 'silly, I suppose, but in that cave everything seemed... different. Everything seemed _possible_, somehow.'

'Everything still _is_! I meant every word I said then, Lily. I...' He paused, his hands itching to reach out and hold her to him. To show her he'd do anything, _anything_, for her. He had sworn to himself last June, that he would never ever again beg forgiveness or plead with her or anyone else ever again. But his resolve, as her eyes looked up at him so beseechingly, was fast dissolving. There was an unspoken plea in her eyes, and a desperate kind of hope she was trying to hide.

It would be so easy to tell her that from now on he'd have nothing more to do with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was so beguilingly _tempting_ – he could feel his resolve wavering...

He'd do anything to have those eyes light up at the words she so wanted to hear from him. She'd be so happy...he'd let her convince herself she'd 'saved' him from Voldemort, and she'd fly into his arms, she'd kiss him, she'd make him as happy as he'd never, in his wildest dreams, imagined he could be.

But she'd be dead. Just like his Boggart.

He took a deep breath and took her hand in his, holding it between his own in an unconscious gesture of fealty.

'I _do_ already belong to you, Lily,' he murmured 'whether you believe me or not, and whether you trust me or not, now. But if something ever happened to you because of my own selfish desires...'

'Remember _my_ Boggart, Severus?' her hand trembled slightly in his 'It was myself in a Death Eater mask. Not that I can ever be a Death Eater, given my blood status, but as a _collaborator_: it's far more possible than I even dare admit to myself. Yet I hate it! I hate it and I hate what I would become! I would not even recognise myself and neither would you. That's why I wanted to speak to you today. That's why I waited in here for you.'

She gently extricated her hand from his and took a step backwards.

'I – I knew it wouldn't be easy. And now it's even worse…' she continued. Her voice quivered and she buried her face in her hands, overcome with emotion.

'I would never want to change you, Lily- ' he started, staring, confused, at her bent head.

He took a step towards her but she wiped her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand and shook her head.

'I want you to stay away from me, Severus,' Lily did not speak angrily or even warningly. Her voice had a kind of pleading hopelessness to it. 'I – I don't think I'm strong enough to do it myself anymore. I found that out the hard way,' She lifted her head and he saw tears welling in her eyes, 'I know it's a strange request, …and – and contradictory, but if you ...' the tears spilled over '...if you care about me, than please don't come near me. I can't keep up the pretence of ignoring you, I cannot. Not anymore. We're each other's worst nightmares as it is, and it can only lead to grief. I ...I just..._Please,_ Sev.'

He subconsciously reached out for her, but she took a step backwards, hugging herself tightly.

Horrified and desperate, Severus said the only thing he thought might stop the direction this was going.

'Look – I- I'll change, if that's what you want! I'll do anything. I'll think of a way to get out of this mess!'

'You don't really mean that. You _know_ you don't. And I can't, Sev, I just can't now- There's something I need to do first. Something I need to figure out for myself. I need time. It was James who –'

She stopped as though she had said too much. But the name felt like a cold shower to Severus.

''_James_'?!'

'James Potter. He – he did something that has me wondering whether there's more to him than- ' Lily spoke hesitantly, as though she knew whatever said would anger him.

She was bloody well right, it did!

'So you're on first-name basis now? You must've had a cosy trip down the mountain with '_James_'. Bet he said he saved you, too.'

'Well, he did. The voices in my head died with Mendrick's death, but it triggered another funny turn. James Potter ensured I got back to Hogwarts safely, and –'

'Did he ask you out again? Is this what all this is about?! D'you need more time to think of your answer?'

His temper, never easily under control where Potter was concerned, but even more so where Potter _and_ Lily were concerned, was already rising in choking waves, threatening to overwhelm him. This conversation was going nightmarishly wrong and as usual, it was Potter who tipped the balance.

'No, it isn't! He didn't ask me out! And even if he did, d'you think I could accept, after ...after yesterday? I know you saved me too, more than once and in an even more risky situation. I'm not belittling what you did. But why are you so unreasonable, where James is concerned?!'

'I _am_ unreasonable, you're right! But you're also calling Potter 'James' and implying there's more to him than an arrogant bastard!'

'That's because I –' But Lily stopped.

'What more is there to him, Lily?'

But Lily wouldn't look him squarely in the eyes. She looked sideways and at her shoes and everywhere else. She was never a good liar. She was hiding something.

'Remus Lupin resigned his Prefectship today,' Lily said, finally.

'Why? What does that have to do with anything?'

'His reasons are his own, but Professor McGonagall called a meeting for us Prefects to see who to delegate Remus' responsibilities to, and I suggested James Potter.'

'_What!?_'

'I thought being Prefect might make him more responsible. I think that way he'll stop being an immature, arrogant arse and start behaving better.' Lily lifted her head and stared defiantly at him. Now she was telling the truth. 'McGonagall agreed. I haven't seen James since yesterday, but I'm told he did not take the news well. I spoiled his fun, I guess,' she attempted a half-hearted laugh.

'So is Potter's future as Prefect the reason why you need more time to think?'

Lily didn't answer him this time and wouldn't look at him either. What was she hiding?

'Bloody hell, Lily, did you _hear_ what I've told you? Did you hear what I'll do for you? What d'you mean you need time to think? Don't you trust me anymore?'

The frightened look in her eyes answered his question. She did not believe him. And she did not trust him. There was something she was hiding and she did not trust him with it. He would put his hand on fire that it was something Potter had told her. He had gone so far as to foreswear his principles for her. And he'd done it against his better judgement, for, in the long run, he knew the repercussions would be on both their heads. But still, he told her he'd change – anything not to have that distance come back between them again.

A distance she was asking _him_ to observe.

A black pall of helpless rage filled him – he should never have given in. He should have stuck to what he had promised himself. He had let his heart deceive him, and humiliation, as well as rage, threaded its way through the anger. She saw his reaction and put out a tentative hand.

'Sev, I –'

But he was already backing away from her and making his way to the door that led to the corridor outside.

'Perhaps we should never have looked for a way out of that bloody cave!' he muttered, not quite managing to disguise the anguish in his voice.

It was a stupid thing to say, but at that moment, Severus Snape didn't give a damn. Without another word, he went through the door and into the darkness beyond.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: The Wedding.**

Malfoy Manor was an unusual building – hundreds of years old, its original rectangular defensive shape had been added to and embellished, over the centuries, with whatever was considered an architectural status symbol of that time. Turrets and Spires abounded, and many of these extensions had been added as a statement of wealth and importance, rather than for defensive purposes, as the original Anglo-Saxon building had been intended. The end result was, however, surprisingly elegant.

This eclectic style contrasted sharply with the square, Romanesque plainness of a chapel which nestled in quiet dignity to the back of the west wing of the main building. The Norman chapel was dwarfed by the stately manor both in size and architectural style. It seemed to have been forgotten by time, its weathered grey walls resting in ivy-covered retirement beneath a slate roof, a remnant of the Malfoy family's French roots.

The only feature of interest was the round Norman arch above the doorway to the chapel: intricately-carved chevron mouldings drew the eye naturally towards the door, and today, unexpectedly, it was open.

The Malfoy chapel was only very, very, rarely opened.

Mostly it was because of a funeral. On even rarer occasions, a wedding, and, rarest of all, a Naming Ceremony. The last baptism in this chapel had been Lucius Malfoy's, twenty three years ago.

A birth had become as rare as a dragon's egg in the Malfoy family.

The organ music that drifted up to a cloudy summer sky however, was not a funeral dirge. The fitful breeze that blew scudding clouds across the late afternoon sun, brought with it the notes of a music that somehow contrived to be both dignified and uplifting.

A wedding was being celebrated in the old chapel today.

Inside the arched doorway, the doleful faces of medieval French saints looked down on the congregation from remnants of frescoes on the old walls. They had been commissioned by Nicholas Malfoy back in the 14 th century. The Malfoys had a very ambiguous attitude to religion at the best of times, considering political influence as a far more secure guarantee to wellbeing in the here and now, rather than vague promises about the hereafter. In 1560, a certain Lucius Malfoy had the frescoes magically covered with an Obscuring Charm during the period when he was trying to ingratiate himself with the current reigning monarch, the Protestant Elisabeth I.

That was, of course, before the Statute of Secrecy turned the political ambitions of the Malfoys towards the fledgling Ministry of Magic, wherein the seeds of greatness would always be stronger.

The Obscuring Charm had dissipated over the years, and the pictures of the old saints, flaked and aged, were visible now, and they looked down disapprovingly on the brightly-dressed throngs of witches and wizards in creaking walnut pews. The chapel had been magically enlarged of course, for there were hundreds of people – the best of pureblood society was gathered in the chapel, for the ancient and proud House of Black was to be united, today, with the equally ancient and proud House of Malfoy. Banners bearing the coats-of-arms of the two houses enlivened the stone walls.

Two narrow high windows on the west wall of the chapel let through the sun in fitful bursts, making the diamonds and precious stones adorning many of the dress-robes of the congregation sparkle and gleam.

One young wizard stood at the back of the festive throng, near the doorway. One could easily have overlooked him perhaps, for he had a knack of blending into the background, especially when that background was dark or nondescript, but today he was drawing quite a few backward glances.

Perhaps it was because the stark, black dress-robes he wore were in sharp contrast to the colourful array of the other wedding guests, or perhaps it was because there was an air of mystery about him that didn't quite fit into the self-important parade of those around him. In any case, although he appeared not to notice, much less care, he was drawing some attention to himself.

Especially from the witches.

Most witches in Pureblood society (especially the matronly sort) were always on the look-out for potential suitors for their daughters, and even if they did not have daughters, matchmaking was ingrained in their nature. It was the way fortunes were made or lost.

And the dark young man was nobody they recognised.

This was not good news by their standards, but somehow, their eyes kept flitting back to him as often as they thought appropriate without seeming too obvious.

He was not classically handsome – far from it. He was tall, but not remarkably so, and he was thin - his cheeks had a hollow look that verged on the unhealthy, and his skin was far too pale, considering it was summer. But silky, dark hair framed his thin face, softening its rather angular outline, and reached, unchecked, beyond his shoulders. A thin, aquiline nose gave him that disdainful air that was intriguing, rather than off-putting, and his eyes – his eyes were an arresting feature. Deep-set and dark – they appeared black in the suffused light of the chapel – were shaded by thick, black lashes, that somewhat mitigated the cold, hard look in them. It was this expression that was more surprising – disquieting even – for one would not expect to find it in a face so young. He appeared to be around 17 or 18 years old, yet his robes sat on him with the dignified grace of someone much older, and they were tight enough to reveal that the young wizard did not have an ounce of extra flesh on him: just lean muscle, sinew and bone.

The blackness of his robes was relieved only by some silver and green embroidery at the cuffs and collar, and a belt with a silver buckle – barely enough to pass as dress robes – yet they lent a sombre dignity to his youthful looks.

'Do thou, Lucius Archon Malfoy, take Narcissa Lyra Black as thine handfasted and blood-bound wife, to have and to hold, to pledge thy troth to, ...'

The solemn words came from the alter, and all heads, included those surreptitiously stealing curious looks at the young wizard, turned as one towards the front of the chapel.

A shaft of bright afternoon sun broke through the high, narrow windows at that moment, illuminating the young bride and groom as they stood facing each other, their right hand clasping the other's. Narcissa Black was slender and pale in a silvery-white robe trimmed with black lace and an intricate design of white and black pearls. Family heirloom jewels glittered in her hair and around her neck, yet it was her ethereal beauty that drew everyone's eyes. Like an alabaster statue, her skin shone in translucent perfection and her white-blonde hair gleamed in the shaft of sunlight.

Lucius Malfoy was in rich black velvet robes, emblazoned down the right side, with his family crest and coat-of-arms, and he had eyes only for Narcissa as he swore his fealty in the ancient words of the Bonding Vows.

Narcissa' voice was clear and strong as she, too, pledged herself to the tall, blonde, handsome wizard in front of her.

The celebrant, an old wizard with a deeply-lined face and a baritone voice, raised his wand and a silver light spiralled from its tip, encircling the conjoined hands of the young witch and wizard like an incandescent ribbon around their entwined hands. Then the celebrant intoned the final words of the magic vow just as the glowing ribbon of light was absorbed through the pale skin of the young couple's hands.

' ... and therefore I now declare thee both bonded for life.'

A soft rustle of emotion shivered through those gathered there at the solemnity of that old magic.

The dark-haired young wizard just inside the doorway of the chapel had watched the entire ceremony with an almost coldly-indifferent expression. Only now, as he witnessed the magic of the bonding, did his eyes betray a flicker of emotion.

The Bonding was old magic – for the words of the vows were an intrinsic part of a magical wedding- it was rumoured some Malfoy witches in centuries past, had woven an Unbreakable Vow into their own bonding ceremony, making any infidelity by their husbands-to-be punishable by instant death.

But it was not interest in Malfoy family history or delight in witnessing the young couple's obvious happiness that passed fleetingly across the young wizard's face –it was something akin to sadness. It did not mar his features for long, however, for the habitual disdain was soon back and his black eyes revealed nothing. One got the feeling however, that there was a keen, intelligent mind there, and those eyes were carefully observing every single detail of that which they did not appear to see.

Suddenly, the young wizard's dark eyes flickered to Lucius Malfoy. The groom had stiffened, tearing his gaze away from his radiant bride to look towards the doorway. Many among the guests followed his gaze.

Beyond the round Norman Arch, the fitful afternoon sunshine had given way to a dull shadow, and in the doorway the air itself was thickening and darkening, sending invisible waves of thrumming expectancy among the crowd. Whispers and hushed voices rustled excitedly – some querying; some hardly daring to believe...

A tall, dark wizard appeared, framed by the ancient archway. There had been no sharp sound of Apparition – the wizard appeared to have just materialised silently, as though born of the darkness beyond the door way.

The whispering reached a crescendo at this but then died completely as soon the Wizard stepped silently onto the red-carpeted aisle. He was dressed in plain black robes made of a strange material – like woven smoke – and his face, white-skinned and hairless, was instantly recognisable by the gathered assembly.

Lord Voldemort. He stopped barely a few paces within the chapel, and looked expectantly at the newly-weds.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy looked tense but proud, as they walked slowly down the steps of the alter and up the aisle towards the dark wizard. They, (but not their guests), had clearly known, or hoped, this visit would take place. Half-way up the aisle they stopped and made a deep obeisance. Lord Voldemort walked a few more steps towards them and raised his wand above their bowed heads:

'Lucius, Narcissa...' he said in a clear, high voice that echoed up to the chapel's rafters ' ...in sign of the nobility and purity of your bloodline and in hope for its perpetuation...'

He waved his wand in a spiral pattern and a beautiful, pure silver Occamy egg appeared, symbol of fruitfulness and prosperity. It was set in gold, with many precious stones especially amethyst and moonstone, denoting fertility, worked into a complex design around it.

There were Ooohs and Aaahs form the gathered guests as Narcissa and Lucius expressed their gratitude with shining eyes. An Occamy egg was a rare and beautiful thing, for apart from its symbolism, and the intrinsic value of the pure silver of its shell, it had magical properties derived from the exotic beast that produced it. Then Lord Voldemort turned to go, and many among the gathered mass of Purebloods craned their necks to see better or catch a glimpse of the fabled dark wizard. Some tried to catch his eyes, hoping he would notice them, others curtsied or bowed; others pretended it was unnecessary or undignified to try and attract his attention; and other still pushed forward between the wooden pews in undisguised eagerness.

Lord Voldemort, however, ignored most of them. He gave a perfunctory nod to some, and his smile became a little wider when his eyes fell on the bride's sister, Bellatrix, where she sat near her husband Rodolphus Lestrange, but otherwise, he spoke to none.

It was a theatrical entrance, but everyone present knew that it could be no other way. Lord Voldemort _exuded_ presence – somehow, nobody could imagine him sitting quietly in a pew...

At the doorway, Lord Voldemort paused for a split second as his eyes fell on the silent young wizard there. Only then did he speak, and it was just one word:

'Severus.'

Lord Voldemort spoke in a level voice that betrayed neither pleasure nor displeasure.

'My Lord.' The young wizard returned the greeting in a low, colourless voice, and then Voldemort was gone.

It was not much, and nobody was sure what the Dark Lord meant. But it was recognition, and recognition, among pureblood wizarding society, meant something, even if it did not mean everything. In these rare events that brought together the oldest wizarding families in Britain, every gesture, every greeting (or lack of it), every nod or nuance of speech was usually deliberate and calculated, and nothing went unnoticed.

Severus Snape had quietly disappeared back into the shadowy corners of the chapel. He silently thanked his erstwhile training in the complex art of understanding human emotion and body language at the hands of the old witch Madeira, for he thought that recognition was exactly what the Dark Lord had in mind with that gesture.

A babble of noise had broken out as the newly-weds walked down the aisle and a crowd of witches and wizards surrounded them to wish them well. The excitement and gossip was doubled given how Lord Voldemort had graced the Malfoy's wedding and personally given them a gift. Few weddings had ever been thus honoured. But this was the society wedding of the decade – even more important than that between the bride's sister Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. And then again – there were scandalous rumours being whispered about _that _particular bonding ceremony. Bellatrix had always been the most strong-willed and difficult to handle of the Black sisters.

Many among the well wishers who crowded around the newly-weds were now looking about them to see where the young wizard who Voldemort greeted, was.

'Do you know him?' whispered a skinny, middle-aged witch with so many large rings on her bony fingers, it was a wonder she could lift her hand.

'No, Lucretzia, I was too far away, but Alphard heard from his nephew that he's called the Half-Blood Prince.' Her companion, a stout wizard with a huge moustache and a monocle, looked back towards the corner of the chapel.

'So Alphard came after all? I was almost afraid he wouldn't.' Lucrezia gave a lugubrious sigh, 'Such a shameful story.'

'Shameful?'

The bejewelled fingers came up to cover Lucrezia's scarlet-daubed mouth, but her eyes glittered malevolently at the gossip she was evidently eager to share. She leaned closer to her companion.

'There was a great family row a couple of weeks ago. You know how rebellious my nephew has become – my brother Orion has his hands full with that young lad. Bad company, you know... Hogwart standards have fallen, and they let in all sorts of low-down scum nowadays. Ever since Dumbledore became Headmaster...'

'You're absolutely right. He never liked us even when he was our Transfiguration teacher remember?'

'Of course I remember, Hubert. He was always docking points off Slytherin, and now I hear his prejudices against our old school house have reached outrageous proportions.'

'Those were the good old days, though, weren't they?' Hubert said, grinning widely, 'Remember when I stole that Basilisk-skin and frightened old Professor Swagsworth?'

'You were always a prankster, Hubert – but you didn't steal that basilisk-skin: our old Prefect, Tom, gave it to you.'

'Well I always assumed it was stolen. Tom always had a knack of ...uh ...finding these really weird things, but he couldn't have _bought _anything: the chap was an orphan! Brilliant, but no money and no real family connections. I wonder what happened to him?'

'Some say he was killed, others that he went abroad...I don't know. Anyway, I was telling you about my brother...'

'I beg your pardon, please continue...I did suspect something was wrong, because I only saw Regulus in the chapel.'

'Exactly. Sirius didn't want to come to his cousin's wedding. That's what started it. Apparently, he heard Narcissa and her betrothed had invited the Dark Lord. I'm afraid my nephew's mind has been poisoned by the bloodtraitors and mudbloods he associates with.'

'He _has_ been sorted into Gryffindor, after all...'

Lucretzia threw the stout wizard a dark look. 'I told Walburga to take him out of Hogwarts as soon as I heard of that disastrous sorting. I _warned_ her! Send him to Durmstrang, I said. But Walburga is obstinate ...' Lucrezia pursed her lips in displeasure 'You know I don't really see eye-to-eye with Walburga, but now she's got to admit I had been right all along. Sirius ran away from home two weeks ago after a huge row over his refusal to come to the wedding! That boy will be her death!'

She paused and eyed with evident satisfaction the effect of this piece of news on Hubert.

'Where is he now?' Hubert asked, astounded.

No doubt, Lucretzia's age-old dislike of her sister-in-law was driving her to expose the family's dirty laundry in public, but Hubert knew Lucrezia had a malevolent streak in her. It prompted her to use others people's indiscretions to appear virtuous by contrast.

'At the Potter's. A family of bloodtraitors, if there ever was one.'

'And Alphard, why did you say-?'

'Oh , him. Well, if there's someone more stubborn and hard-headed than Walburga, it's her brother! He's also an eccentric and a confirmed old Bachelor. I don't know how my brother tolerates him. Orion told me Alphard threatened to give a huge sum of gold to his runaway nephew. He said he wants Sirius to open his mind to the possibilities, and go explore the world, or some-such rubbish! Even Walburga won't speak to him now. I'm surprised Alphard came to this wedding at all – I wouldn't put it past Walburga to duel him to a frazzled mess if she saw him...'

'Hubert! Lucrezia! It's been so long...' A wizard with splendidly embroidered dress-robes came up to them with open arms. He had dark eyes and dark hair peppered with white at the temples, and rather heavy features.

'Ah, Cygnus!' Hubert said with a smile 'How does it feel to be the father of the bride?'

'Very proud , Hubert, very proud – it does my old heart good to see my youngest daughter settled now. Yes, yes indeed...' A slight frown passed fleetingly over his features.

Hubert and Lucrezia exchanged looks. Yes, this wedding certainly made up for the scandalous one nobody in the family ever mentioned: - Cygnus' middle daughter, Andromeda, had done the unthinkable and married a mudblood...

'Cygnus, who's that young wizard talking to Evan Rosier and Regulus?' Lucrezia asked, nodding to a small know of young wizards at the far edge of the lawn in front of the chapel 'Is he foreign?'

'Foreign? No – whatever makes you say that?'

'Hubert heard he's a Prince – a half-blood one. Since no-one magical has that title on British soil, I assumed- '

Cygnus shook his head. 'I don't know what you heard, Hubert – he's Narcissa's acquaintance from Hogwarts. Going up to his last year, I think. His name is Severus Snape and Narcissa invited him...' Neither Hubert nor Lucrezia missed the faint disapproval in his words. 'My daughter thinks very highly of him: she said he comes from an old wizarding family on his mothers' side, but his present circumstances are ...uh... a mystery.'

'The Dark Lord spoke to him,' Lucrezia's eyes narrowed, assessing Cygnus' reaction.

'Yes. I suppose that's what makes him a mystery,' Cygnus said, with a deadpan expression. 'Shall we move to the Hall now?'

The sky above the Wiltshire countryside had turned into the russet and gold of a sunset and the newly-weds were leading the way in a short procession towards the Manor, along a path of magical red rose petals that released a beautiful smell on the warm evening air when trodden.

As they approached the manor, the guests passed beneath archways of free-standing garlands of ivy within which pale, heavily-scented narcissus flowers were entwined, and finally, along the wide, imposing flight of steps that led to the manor door, where old suits of armour worn by Malfoy ancestors and emblazoned with the family coat-of-arms, stood at attention, swords raised to salute the bride and groom.

Lucretzia turned to give one last curious look at the small group of teenage wizards bringing up the rear of the procession, and then followed Cygnus up the wide flight of steps and inside the Manor.

Wedding guests poured into the well-lit enormous Hall and then spilled over into the drawing room. The harmonious notes of a string quartet floated from a corner of the hall and silver platters bearing finger-foods floated among the guests as did bottles of mead and Firewhisky. The enormous chandelier cast glittering reflections everywhere, and the gold, silver and precious stones at the neck and in the hair of the witches gleamed brightly in the crystal light, as did the gold and silver thread of the heavily-embroidered dress robes of the wizards.

Severus Snape had managed to slink unobtrusively into a dark corner of the hallway where he was inspected with some disdain by a portrait of a splendidly over-dressed, pale-faced, 16 th century Malfoy wizard.

Severus hated weddings – not that he had been to many – but this was one of the biggest he'd ever been to. Actually, he hated any sort of large gathering of people. Even old Slughorn's dinner parties had been bad enough, but this was worse. It wouldn't have been so bad if he could have disappeared in some quiet corner, as he usually did, and observed people's antics and shallowness from the undisturbed space, but this time, he hadn't quite been able to sidle away.

Severus Snape was good at getting himself ignored or emphatically left alone even whilst in the midst of a huge crowd. He was no good at small talk, and whatever he did say was, more often than not, abrasive and factual, for he refused to play at the silly games of those around him.

This time, however, several witches and wizards insisted on speaking to him, ignoring his monosyllabic answers and twittering excitedly about this, that, and the other. One of them was even hinting heavily that she would like to dance with him later. He knew they were curious because the Dark Lord had spoken to him, and they just couldn't put their finger upon who he was _exactly_.

Well, he wasn't going to make it easy for them, but he didn't quite expect a couple of young witches to come up to him and ask him if he was really the 'Half-blood Prince'!

With these people's obsessive digging into everybody's past and family background, no doubt there were many among the guests – like the Rosiers - who knew his mother's story, and they would soon enlighten the rest of the genealogically-obsessed crowd. But what people would probably be asking next, is why in Merlin's name was he here!? A half-blood from the slums of Cokeworth at the most prestigious and acclaimed wedding of the decade...

The Dark lord had a purpose in everything he said or did, so it was more than likely he intended to send a message with his simple greeting. Severus didn't know whether to be pleased or apprehensive: he hadn't forgotten the Dark Lord's words to him on Ben Cόrhveinn: words that were unusually encouraging for a half-blood like him, but words that held a faint menace, nonetheless.

'Ah, there you are! You look good tonight - why aren't you with those young witches? I thought you'd take advantage.' A teenage wizard holding a Firewhisky he was probably too young to be drinking had spotted Severus.

Slender, dark-haired and handsome, his grey eyes were shining a bit too brightly and his cheeks were a bit too flushed, but the smile with which he greeted Severus seemed genuine.

Severus however, glowered at him.

'You started the rumour, Reg, didn't you?'

'Why are you complaining, Severus? _The Half-Blood Prince_ is a title with just the right touch of transgressive mystique that makes witches go wild to know more...'

'And you think I'd appreciate that because...?'

'Oh, come _on_ – these girls have a lot to recommend them... they're pureblood, attractive- '

'They're mostly old gossips with nothing better to do than perpetuate stupid rumours like yours...'

'Well, _you_ wrote that title on your Potions book.'

'And that's where it was meant to stay. You shouldn't have been prying...'

'I wasn't. I was looking up some stuff on Potions.'

Severus snorted in disgust, but Reg just grinned. 'Well, you promised to show me some spells,' Reg continued 'and that book of yours is more like a diary ...'

'Which makes it prying.'

'It's only a diary of _spells_ – good ones. I tried the Langlock one on Kreacher – fantastic, Severus, he couldn't speak for an hour! One of these days, I'll try it on my mother, she's been impossible lately...' A look of something akin to annoyance passed fleetingly over his face.

It was rare that Regulus spoke disrespectfully of his parents, but things were rough at Grimauld place right now. Severus looked on with a frown as Regulus lifted the thick crystal glass and took a large gulp.

'You shouldn't be drinking that stuff like it was water,' he said sourly.

'You're not my nursemaid, Severus,' Reg said, the flush in his cheeks deepening and his hand tightening around a slightly shaking glass.

'No, Kreacher is. But if you don't want your cousin to say something to your Mum, you'd better act like you can _hold_ that Firewhisky - Narcissa's coming over.' Severus nodded to where Narcissa and Lucius with several other people were making their way over to them.

Regulus melted away discreetly.

'Severus, so glad to see you could make it,' Lucius said, as they shook hands.

'Yes, I was afraid you wouldn't come,' Narcissa murmured, as she took his hand.

'You insisted,' he said in a low voice, fixing his dark eyes on her.

Narcissa just smiled. The cool pale perfection of Narcissa's skin was tinged with a heightened colour that became her more than her usual pale, unblemished perfection, and her eyes sparkled with more warmth than was her wont. And a touch of triumph. Her wedding had been a resounding success on many levels, and success suited Narcissa, who shone at these kinds of social events - especially when said event was her own wedding.

'So this is young Severus Snape.' A tall man with ruddy face and thinning blonde hair was looking at Severus curiously. 'My son speaks most highly of you, and so does Narcissa.'

'This is my father, Abraxas, Severus,' Lucius said with a touch of formality that did not escape Severus. Probably Malfoy senior had questioned his son's choice of wedding guest. Well, he was used to it.

'You caused quite a stir back there, young man,' Abraxas said, leaning closer and lowering his voice 'The Dark Lord acknowledged you.'

'We are acquainted,' Severus replied, cautiously.

'Of course you are. The Dark Lord is a frequent guest at Malfoy Manor and it was here that you first met the Dark Lord two years ago. I saw you.'

'I'm afraid I don't remember meeting you that night, Sir.'

'You didn't. The Dark Lord desired to speak with you alone and besides I had ...er... other business to attend to.' Abraxas' meaningful smile reminded Severus that this wizard had been with Bellatrix the night she tortured and killed the unfortunate traitor, Percival Prewitt.

'I admire the Dark Lord's knowledge and clear-headed determination to restore our ancient magical rights, and the power that is our birthright...' Abraxas was saying 'But Malfoy Manor is an old place and only a Malfoy may truly understand all its secrets. This house and its grounds belong to _me_. This Manor and its grounds allow me to see all who are not of our kin, so you will understand now, Mr Snape, why I say that I saw you the night the Dark Lord summoned you here...'

'Malfoy Manor is bewitched to recognise a true Malfoy ...' Lucius added with a smile at Narcissa '... and their consorts.'

'You have plenty of time to initiate Narcissa in Malfoy Manor's secret enchantments, Lucius, your bride is very young,' Abraxus said, as he turned to look at his new daughter-in-law fondly 'Better this way though, m'dear, better this way... Pureblood witches should be wed young, I always say, for theirs is a sacred duty...'

Narcissa smiled, but Severus thought there was a strained look about her. Abraxas hadn't noticed, however and passed his arms fondly round her shoulders.

'You've made my son very happy, Narcissa,' he continued, 'You've made _me_ very happy. And I'm not only talking about your impeccable wedding arrangements - Today, finally, the old chapel's doors are open to celebrate a joyous occasion after over two decades of silence...'

Abraxus' pale eyes fixed themselves on Narcissa with an unmistakeable gleam: 'The day will come, as it inevitably must, when those chapel doors open for my funeral-'

'Father!'

'I'm not being maudlin, Lucius, just realistic. Before that time comes, I want those chapel doors to open one more time for another joyous occasion: a baptism! I want to be alive to witness at last one Naming Ceremony in that old chapel. The last one was when you were born, Lucius.'

'_Father!_' A slow flush suffused Lucius' pale face, 'There's no need to go into that –'

But Abraxus brushed off his son's embarrassment. 'What say you, daughter-in-law?' he asked teasingly.

Only Severus knew it was not just teasing. Inheritance was everything for this family and Malfoy senior was applying the pressure.

'I'd be truly blessed and happy if one day I'll be able to present you with a grandson and heir...' Narcissa said demurely, with a shy blush and lowered eyes.

Abraxas beamed in a fatherly way at her and then turned to Lucius. That second, Narcissa raised her eyes and Severus realised with a shock of surprise, that the look in Narcissa' eyes was one of anguish. She only held his gaze for a split second, but in that split second he understood why she had looked so strained, and that her demure shyness was nothing but an act.

Narcissa was afraid that she'd never produce the longed-for heir to the Malfoy family estates.

Next moment, Abraxus had seen someone else and dragged his son and daughter-in-law off to speak to other well-wishers. Severus watched the slender figure of Narcissa recede then disappear among the throng of guests.

He'd almost forgotten about it, but in his fourth-year, he had found out she'd harmed herself with a disastrous potion to get rid of an unwanted pregnancy. She had gone to Madeira for help, but when the old witch disappeared, she found herself alone with unbearable pain.

For some reason, which even now he could not explain to himself, he'd decided to help her. His potions stopped her pain, and but could not undo all of the damage she had caused herself.

All this and more passed between them in that fleeting glance. Narcissa was letting him see how scared she was. She had every reason to be worried – Severus couldn't even place a figure on the potential wealth accumulated by the family she was marrying into, much of it was tied up in this place, Malfoy Manor. It was a big deal. Lucius was an only son and if no heir was produced, the ensuing chaos and troubles from obscure, long-lost distant relations didn't even bear contemplation.

Why she was letting him see her anguish was a different matter, however. He was the only one who knew about her indiscretion, of course. But there was something else, and it wasn't just gratitude for having years ago saved her from the ignominy of having the truth of her abortion discovered.

For some strange reason, Narcissa behaved differently towards him than she did towards others – even though he was a half-blood whose house would barely make the grade as a tool- shed on her new estates. Severus thought he'd seen a silent plea in Narcissa's eyes. He didn't know what to make of that, and he could not do or say anything to reassure her. He had done his best, back then, to help her, but he was not a healer, and now only time would tell...

And the clock had started ticking for Narcissa Malfoy.

He didn't see her again all evening and then sometime after midnight, an unpleasant row broke out between Walburga and Alphard. Thankfully, it happened between the high, fairy-illuminated hedgerows of the gardens where many of the guests had spilt out into to enjoy the mild summer night. Regulus broke up the fight before wands were drawn, and managed to calm his mother down. Walburga listened to her youngest son more than anyone else.

The few guests with young children took this as a cue to leave and Severus followed suit a little while later. He sought Lucius and Narcissa out to bid them goodbye, but this time Narcissa kept her poise: everything about her was the picture of a radiant bride, and as he took leave of her, she kissed him goodbye with a smile.

Narcissa was strong – Severus knew that. She had been groomed since childhood for the role she was playing. In the few minutes' conversation with Abraxas Malfoy, Severus had learnt a lot. True, the old wizard was probably in an expansive mood, as all rich Purebloods were when showing off their wealth and importance to their peers, but he had let slip a slight resentment against Voldemort. Possibly for using the manor so freely for his own purposes, for Abraxus was not a Death Eater like his son. Severus got the impression of a shrewd, calculating man who could see exactly where the winds of power and influence where blowing and wanted to ensure he'd be there when the Dark Lord swept to victory in order to get the lion's share. He was already pressuring his new daughter-in-law to produce the heir that would ensure the continued wealth and influence of the Malfoy family...

His thoughts turned to Narcissa and he frowned as he walked down the twinkling fairy-infested hedgerows towards the distant gate. His friendship with the youngest daughter of the House of Black had started in his first years at Hogwarts, but it was no more than a cold acquaintance at first. Narcissa was years ahead of him, and the undisputed queen of Slytherin. A wealthy, pureblood witch with a cold, marble-like beauty and a manipulative streak which she employed with considerable skill on all those around her.

Nothing touched her.

But when it did, Severus was the first to see it. Perhaps it was when he realised she genuinely loved Lucius Malfoy, that he decided to help her. And she had thawed considerably towards him after that: first out of gratitude, but then because she'd found out about his love for a Muggleborn, Lily Evans. Her initial shock at the discovery had unexpectedly turned to sympathy and an unlikely friendship, even though she never actively encouraged his pursuit of Lily.

Severus arrived at the high elaborate wrought-iron gates. A pale-haired, cloaked wizard stood there and at his bare-handed touch, the massive gates swung open and Severus passed through. Before he disapparated, he looked back one last time at the distant Manor alight with the music and noise of people dancing and having a good time.

Probably Narcissa had heard of his falling out with Lily Evans. She had the tact not to mention it, but he wouldn't have put it past her to have told Regulus to try and set him up with someone else. Someone _pureblood_ as Reg had said. Narcissa was probably now convinced of the unworthiness of Muggleborn witches.

He'd let her think that.

After all, perhaps she was right.

He turned back and walked slowly down the dark country lane, then stopped and placed his hand on the wand at his belt. He paused before disapparating, steeling his mind for what was coming: the squalor of his home after the opulence of Malfoy Manor would hit him doubly hard.

But what would hit him hardest of all, even though he was trying desperately to quell the rising turmoil, were the thoughts of Lily Evans that even now were clamouring for attention at the back of his mind. Perhaps he shouldn't have come to this wedding. He had been reminded of something he used to dream about once. Only now it was a forbidden dream: that of seeing Lily in a white dress with her hand in his as they were magically bonded for life.

Silly, stupid, schoolboy dreams. Sentimental _drivel_. His hand tightened angrily on his wand and he took a deep, calming breath.

He and Lily were already bonded in a way far more mysterious way than the wedding bond. It was a strong bond, but unfortunately, unlike the wedding vows, it was not enough to keep them together.

He closed his eyes as the familiar heaviness settled in his heart. He knew that he would spend the rest of the night in thinking about her, and the past two months at Hogwarts, a surreal time he wanted to forget but couldn't.

Turning silently on the spot, he dissapparated into the night.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Summer Holidays.**

The squeezing, breathless sensation of disapparition and the whistling in his ears seemed to call out the one name he had been trying to avoid thinking of: _Lily_. He apparated in the backyard, and drew the cool night air gratefully into his lungs, even though it was redolent with the smell of cats and stale garbage. He had become a bit better at apparating without too much noise and he sneaked in unnoticed, through the kitchen door.

Moving silently through the dark rooms downstairs, he then crept upstairs to his room, grateful the house was dark and quiet. The last dregs of fine elf-made wine; expensive perfumes, and sublime music dissipated quickly as the threadbare reality of peeling wallpaper, the smell of stale beer and muggle life assaulted his senses.

Lighting a small taper on his table and flinging himself on his bed he let himself drown in thoughts, completely awake despite the hour.

Perhaps he shouldn't have gone to the wedding... he had wanted to put as much time and distance as he possibly could from Hogwarts these summer holidays, but Narcissa's wedding had reminded him of a happier time at the castle.

The last two months at Hogwarts had been surreal. After their conversation in the Muggles Studies classroom, Severus hadn't known how to behave towards Lily. She had put the onus of staying away from her on him, but by the next day, Severus had been ready to send it all to hell and approach her again, for there was something that was bothering him... something that she was not _saying_.

However, the next time he saw her, when they had a shared Ancient Runes lesson, she looked so pale and distraught, that he forgot his intention and backed away quietly, shocked at her appearance. She seemed even more upset than she had been in the beginning of the school year when their falling out with each other had been still painfully raw.

Several times during Ancient Runes, her eyes had flickered to his, and then nervously away again.

He hadn't known what to make of it.

He'd decided to give her some time. Perhaps the shock of Mendrick's death and her brush with the ancient earth magic had left her somewhat fragile.

But as the days passed, little improved. Lily Evans remained, for the most part, pale and withdrawn. She did not actively avoid him, and sometimes, during shared lessons, she even sat near him, but when he tried to speak to her – even something as innocuous as 'Pass the hellebore' or 'Your fire went out' her reaction confused him. She turned deathly pale, or conversely, flushed feverishly red and rarely answered except in monosyllables. If he _did _manage to catch her eyes, the expression in them was invariably sad.

He started feeling unaccountably guilty – as though it was his fault somehow. It got to the point where he almost couldn't stand it anymore and he once again toyed with the idea of forcing her to speak to him.

But then again – what more could he tell her?

She had told him to be the one to stay away from her, but, damn it all, didn't she realise that it would be just as hard for him as it was for her? And why the hell should he feel guilty?! He had saved her life on Ben Cόrhveinn; he had explained to her why he'd acted the way he did, and she knew now that it had just been an unfortunate coincidence that had brought their Combined Magic to the Dark Lord's notice. This self-imposed separation came from her – he hadn't wanted it!

He had even fallen so low in his own eyes, as to offer her to renounce his principles and the Dark Lord!

She hadn't believed him.

Perhaps she had been right not to. He would have regretted it. Perhaps it was all for the better. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Voldemort triumphantly swept to power, removing a useless Ministry and establishing a new order. A brave new world such as wizardkind hadn't seen in over five centuries! Magic would be given the recognition it deserved, and he, Severus, would ensure that Lily's magic would be given the respect it was due. She would see that her nightmares about Death Eaters was unfounded.

Not that he cared too much anymore about Death Eaters, the war, Voldemort, or anything else in those last couple of months at Hogwarts. The turmoil Lily had aroused in him eclipsed everything else as he slowly came to realise that he had nothing to say that could change Lily's mind, and that actually, he'd said too much.

His feelings of guilt had then transformed to anger. If Lily wanted him to ignore her than that is just what he would do! He gave up on the idea of speaking to her again – he had nothing more to say that hadn't been said, and so he concentrated instead on his upcoming exams and his clandestine work in the dungeon hideout.

It was difficult, at first.

Lily's sad eyes kept glancing in his direction far too often for him to ignore and, quite tellingly, she never again, to his knowledge, dated any other boy. He'd been half-afraid she'd do that again, for he realised now that her never-ending stream of boyfriends in the beginning of the year was her way of trying to get over him. However, Lily went about her lessons and Prefect duties conscientiously, yet with an invariably worried and preoccupied air. It was not just the sadness he himself felt at their enforced estrangement – it was as though she was afraid and worried about something else too. It couldn't be their exams – they were important, sure, but the NEWTS were next year. There was something else.

Something she did not trust him to know.

Severus glared darkly at the dank, discoloured ceiling of his room.

Lily had said, that night in the Muggles Studies classroom that there was something she needed to do, or figure out, for herself, and that is what she was hiding from him. But he would put his hand on fire that it was something to do with Potter - something he said or did when he brought Lily down that mountain!

Severus gave a low growl of frustration and turned round on his face, crushing his dress robes and not giving a damn about it.

Potter! That was something else he couldn't understand. Why in Merlin's fucking pants did Lily have to nominate _him_ for Prefect? Wasn't his head big enough already? To teach him restraint, she had said. Severus gave a humourless laugh. True, that arrogant berk hadn't seemed too pleased at first. He went about his Prefect duties reluctantly, with a bewildered and displeased look on his face, and, as far as he could see, he had given up hexing random students in the corridor just for laughs.

He hadn't resisted saying something to that effect one day, when he met Potter on his way to the Charms lesson:

'Your face would turn milk sour, Potter. Is being a Prefect too heavy a responsibility? Or is it the fact that you can't do whatever you damn well please, that's galling?'

'Watch your mouth, Snivellus!' Potter had snarled back at him.

'A Prefect shouldn't be calling other students _names_, Potter' he drawled, feeling an unholy delight in provoking the Gryffindor, 'You're supposed to set an example now...'

'And I'll start by docking points off Slytherin-'

'Why? I'm just pointing out the nobler aspects of your Prefect duties.'

'You wait, you piece of Slyterin-!' But Potter had bit his tongue, for a small crowd was already gathering.

This wouldn't have bothered James Potter once – a crowd is actually what he _wanted._ An audience of laughing, braying, sycophants was always welcome while he hexed or jinxed whoever crossed his path (or even just for the entertainment value).

This time, however, Potter just glared at him and proceeded on his way.

So Potter was learning restraint. At least in public. Severus had gloated, but not for long. Potter and Black had lain in wait for him beneath the Invisibility Cloak on the last Hogsmeade visit of the year, knowing he would be at the Apothecary's stocking up on ingredients for the summer. When they finished with him, his ingredients lay in a sticky quagmire on the dirt track that led to the castle, his clothes were burnt by a badly-aimed Flagrate spell and left hand was throbbing painfully where a Furnunculus Jinx had got him before he could put up a Shield Charm.

And it had been like that between him and Potter for the rest of the School year. Severus taunted Potter, finding an obscene delight in goading him to the point of retaliation. And he was ready for him when he _did_ retaliate, though he hadn't always come out unscathed on those occasions, for Potter had lightning-quick reflexes.

But towards the end, Potter changed tactics. He hounded his footsteps, many times beneath the Invisibility Cloak, and punished his every transgression, even minor ones like being a few minutes late over curfew - with a massive docking of points from Slytherin. Being completely invisible, Potter had an unfair advantage and Severus had taken to wearing his own version of the Invisibility cloak – the Stealth cloak – whenever he wanted to flout curfew rules or whenever he wanted to sneak out of Hogwarts. The Stealth Cloak did not confer complete invisibility, but it did have the advantage of changing the appearance of the wearer, if the material was treated with the right potion.

He didn't get to that point, because things between him and James Potter came to an uneasy truce when the end-of-year exams in June came along and both had to concentrate on their studies.

Throughout all this Lily Evans had remained uninvolved. Severus knew she must have known, in part, what was going on, but she did not get between them. Thinking back, perhaps half the occasions he had provoked Potter within her hearing was subconsciously because he _wanted_ her to intervene: he wanted to know what she was hiding from him about Potter's supposed hidden talents. He wanted her to try to stop him attacking Potter and reveal what was so _great_ about the new Gryffindor Prefect!

But she never interfered, one way or another.

That in itself was unusual. Lily Evans _always_ interfered in a fight. More than ever as a Prefect. And she definitely would have stopped Potter from docking points unfairly off Slytherin. Usually. But she kept strictly out of it all, and acted, sometimes, as though she was in a world of her own.

She also remained pale and withdrawn. Even her friends noticed, though none of them were looking in _his_ direction as they had done last year, as the most obvious cause of her distress. This time, none of her friends knew she had been with him on Ben Cόrhveinn, and those dunderheads, the Marauders, had apparently all kept their mouths shut about it too.

No-one knew why Lily Evans was looking so pale and acting so sad and withdrawn. Even he, Severus, felt he only knew a part of the reason why. By the end of June she wasn't any better. If anything, she looked even more troubled.

Severus gave a frustrated sigh, turned round on his back once more, and gazed up at the discoloured ceiling of his bedroom until he blocked out the distasteful sight by pointing his wand at the taper on his book-laden table and snuffing it out.

His sleepless eyes widened in the pitch-black darkness of his bedroom, seeing nothing ... not even the images and smells and sounds of music and laughter of the Malfoy wedding. They were gone now, like a colourful dream, and he pondered once more, as he had done a thousand times before, the mysterious words of Lily Evans.

Seeing Lord Voldemort at the wedding earlier however, had reminded him of something.

Lily had said that in the visions engendered by the Oracle, she had seen the Dark Lord's face. She had said it was more deformed than now, indicating her vision could be of the future. Severus easily believed in visions of the past, since they were just preserved events or memories, but visions of what purported to be the future was more difficult for him to believe in.

The Dark Lord did, however. At least he believed enough in them to instruct him, Severus, to be on the look-out for any other oracle, prophecy, or seer-saying that might shed light on what the Oracle on Ben Cόrhveinn refused to .

Admittedly, the vision of Voldemort was the one specific sign that the Oracle spoke of events that could concern the future of the war, but Lily had never told him _exactly_ what the Oracle said, even though she was the only one to understand the language. She had said the words were obscure.

Well, that was hardly surprising. Oracles were notoriously ambiguous. He himself had had quite a hard time deciphering the riddles in Madeira's notes and the encrypted one of his Great-grandfather.

But Lily was a clever witch – could she have finally figured out what the words meant? If so, given her troubled look, the result could hardly be something she liked. Well, with Voldemort set to win the war, that was hardly surprising. Yet she had spoken about an _unending _war and a blood sacrifice – these could be construed as a negative turn of events for both warring factions... She also spoke about the Spirit of the Forest, an animal for whom she had nourished a strong affection, before it was killed. He couldn't understand the significance of _that_.

He had so little to go on...

What if she really had heard the Oracle tell of a way to end the war, just as she had first set out to the Mountain to do? What if she had figured out, sometime during these last two months, the meaning of the Oracle's words?

That was disquieting.

He sat up in bed and strode to his window, a prickling unease making him suddenly restless. Pulling the dull material of his curtain apart, he looked up at the cold glitter of stars above the narrow street.

That would not explain why she was so troubled, but it would certainly explain why Lily didn't trust him. She had seen for herself, on Ben Cόrhveinn, why she could never trust him with such information. He had offered his allegiance to Voldemort there, right in front of her, in the Stone circle on the mountainside.

More importantly, what was he ready to do about it, if it were true? He didn't even know how he _felt_ about it. It put him in a quandary. Certainly, he did not want to stop the momentum of a war that had already gained so much for wizardkind... but on the other hand...

The prickling sense of unease coalesced into a definite cold dread.

...on the other hand, if anyone knew about it – on either side of the warring factions - Lily Evans would be hounded mercilessly for that information!

He passed his hands through his hair distractedly. She had already unwanted attention because of her – _their_ - Combined Magic. If news got around that she'd heard an Oracle too...

He tried to put himself in her shoes. Lily Evans would first turn to Dumbledore if she thought she had something so important.

That would be a disaster: Dumbledore would scour her mind for other clues and information, and a lot would be discovered – not just about Voldemort's war. He hoped his warning about the Headmaster's Legilimency had sunk in. Perhaps she hadn't gone to him ...yet.

Severus let the curtain fall back and turned to sit on his bed with a frustrated sigh. If only Lily knew Occlumency, then she could protect herself better...from everyone.

In any case, all this certainly did not explain what, if anything, the link to Potter was.

Severus scowled in the dark.

Perhaps he was just reading too much into things...

Perhaps she was just sad at the way things turned out between them, that's all. He had found it hard enough: alternating between bouts of unreasonable cold fury directed at her at himself, and the whole bloody world in general, and bouts of an exquisite sadness that he could not even begin to describe. At Hogwarts, forced to close, almost daily, encounters with her, knowing she had forbidden herself from him, was both distracting and distressing.

Tonight, during the Bonding Ceremony pf Lucius and Narcissa, the latter feelings had been prodded into life with a vengeance.

Perhaps Lily was just grateful Potter had returned her safely to Hogwarts and suggested his Prefectship. After all, unless you count Pettigrew and Black, there weren't too many Gryffindors to choose from, anyway.

And he hadn't seen Lily in Potter's company more than was strictly necessary to carry out their Prefect duties. And he knew this because he observed both of them like a hawk during the last two months at Hogwarts.

True, she now called him 'James' rather than 'Potter', he recalled with a sickening grimace, but other than that, he was treated to the same wan smiles and short, disjointed conversations as the rest of her friends, as Lily Evan's preoccupation grew over the weeks.

Severus gave another frustrated sigh and let himself fall back on his bed. Through the dull material of his curtains he could see the first glow of an approaching dawn. He had been going over and over the events on Ben Cόrhveinn for weeks and weeks now, but could come to no real conclusion. Voldemort's presence at the wedding had stirred things in his mind which he would have rather forgotten. Or, not forgotten - Severus Snape never could forget anything – but at least _foregone_ till the end of summer.

The one good thing about this summer – the _only_ good thing actually – was something that he still clutched in his hand – his wand. This summer, he was of age and when the oppressive Muggleness of Spinner's End; the emptiness familiarity of the streets and his old haunts – _their old haunts_ - in Cokeworth became too much, he had the means by which to make it go away, by fair means or foul.

He tightened his grip on his wand as he heard the first faint sounds of grumbling voices from the bedroom next to his.

Despite the many times he swore not to, despite the fact that he knew that there would probably be nothing in it for him in the end, but more pain and turmoil, he knew he would be watching Lily closely – without her knowing it, if that was what she wanted. He knew he would be doing his utmost to find out what was wrong with her, and right the wrong if he could. One day – he had to cling to the tiniest shred of hope – one day she might be grateful. Grateful enough to thank him in the way he had always dreamed she would. She did, after all, still love him. He knew that now.

The voices in the next bedroom grew to a plaintive, grumbling, crescendo. Pointing his wand at the wall, he cast a Muffling spell that sounded more like an expletive, then turned face down on his bed and buried his face in the pillow.

* * *

><p>'And this is the heart of it all – the duelling room!' Alice Walker proudly opened the double doors and let them into a low, but very large, room.<p>

Lily vaguely realised it must have once been a basketball court or an indoor gym, but the Walkers, father and daughter, had modified it to be part of their new Wizard Duelling School.

Everyone around her made noises of surprised appreciation. Lily had to admit that they had done a good job with the old muggle gym. There were wide open spaces in the middle, a small book cabinet in the corner, containing, no doubt, duelling manuals; lots of cushions and floor-length mirrors in another, and, at the far end, the wall was plastered with photos of renowned Death Eaters and pictures of several notorious dark wizards and witches from centuries past and present. Beneath these pictures was a large cage half-covered with dark cloaks and to one side, a cabinet full of potion bottles protected by a thick glass doors that glowed faintly blue.

'Is that a Kappa?!' Mary Macdonald asked in astonishment, pointing to a cage.

Alice nodded, her round face, framed by an untidy fringe, shining with pride. 'Dad got him from a wizard who travels a lot. We'll return him to the Far East soon's all of us have learnt how to handle him,'

Mary's barely-there eyebrows went up to her blonde hair as thick, scaly webbed hands reached out between the bars of the cage. 'We didn't even get to see one in DADA!' she exclaimed.

'Yeah, they're hard to come by. We were lucky. We've got some other dark creatures in the basement. C'mon - I'll show you!'

'Alice, these girls are here on holiday – they don't want a DADA lecture,' Frank Longbottom intervened mildly.

Jenny Trimble nodded vigorously. 'We'll skip the Banshees – at least till after lunch.'

'I'm afraid we don't have Banshees –' Alice started, when suddenly everyone burst out laughing.

'I was _joking_, Alice,' Jenny said.

'As I told you, she takes it seriously,' Frank said, fondly indicating the petite but earnest Alice.

Lily smiled too, though her face muscles felt unusually taut and strange, for smiling did not come so naturally to her anymore. It felt more like a grimace.

She tried to pull herself together. After all, when Alice Walker invited them to spend a week at her house in Dorset, she had jumped at the opportunity. Anything to keep away from Cokeworth and the painfully familiar places she used to frequent every summer with Severus.

She steered her mind away from such thoughts and tried to follow the excited chattering of her friends.

'So, how's the home schooling getting along?' she asked Alice as they walked back outside the duelling room and headed towards the large front door.

'Oh – it's not so much fun as Hogwarts. I miss all you people, and learning stuff at home just isn't the same thing, but I manage to scrape a couple of NEWTS a year ahead of you. Dad said they're not too fussy at the Ministry anymore about how many OWLS and NEWTS you have. All you need is a fast wand...'

'So is it true you're off to Auror training, then?'Mary asked pushing her thick glasses up her nose.

'Mid- September. Frank, too.' Alice said this with the faintest hint of a blush.

Lily smiled again, this time more genuinely, though a trifle wistfully.

Frank was still as madly in love with Alice as he had been at Hogwarts and had even dropped out of his last two years at Hogwarts to join the Walkers' duelling school, but Alice had still refused to go out with him.

Frank remained quietly persistent however, and seeing them together, Lily thought they made a lovely couple, whether Alice knew it or not. Lily thought she did now. The way the petite witch's eyes constantly sought Frank's was very telling. Frank's steady, quiet nature was the perfect counterfoil to Alice's reckless, firebrand character. The perfect couple ... with nothing to stand in their way ...

Lily's smile faded, her face settling into her now-habitual, frozen, expression. Why couldn't things be simple for her, too? Instead, her feelings for Severus these last couple of months had been twisted this way and that till she didn't know what to do anymore – till she wished she couldn't _feel_ anymore!

It was even more difficult now than it had been in the beginning of the past school year. In those days, at least, she had better reasons for ending it with Severus. And it wasn't about the hateful words he had thrown at her in a moment of rage and humiliation: _filthy little mudblood_... No, it wasn't that. It was his impenitent pride and attraction to the Death Eater cult, his obvious distrust of her, his involvement with Voldemort, and the plan that involved her and their Combined Magic...

But now she knew the truth.

Now she knew that he had been, in part at least, forced into the position he found himself in, because he thought he was acting in her best interests...

It had made it all so much more difficult, this time, to tell him to stay away from her. Initially, she had wanted to tell Severus, back in that darkened classroom, that what happened in the Raven's cave on Ben Cόrhveinn, happened because it _was _in the cave, a stolen moment away from reality, and that it could not happen again. But what she had not expected was to hear how it was Voldemort himself who had found out the truth about them. She had not expected to hear how Severus had been threatened, and how he had slowly found himself embroiled with the most dangerous Dark wizard of all... She had not expected him to say he was ready to change...

That had been the most difficult thing of all.

She had so _wanted_ to believe him.

She had so wanted to reach out and touch him as gently as he had her, when he told her Voldemort didn't have _an inkling_ about what they felt for each other; she had wanted so, so, much to tell him - to _show _him - how sorry she was that he'd been through so much pain because of her. But she held back. Because she could not believe him. Not entirely. He was desperate when he uttered those words, and he had said them for no other reason. She could never hold him to such words, uttered in desperation. He had to _sincerely_ want to renounce the Death Eaters. Once, back in fifth year, she tried to find what was so fascinating about the Dark Arts, for _his_ sake, but her heart wasn't in it, for it wasn't what she wanted, and this was the same thing in reverse.

So she had restrained herself and let him leave the Muggles Studies classroom white-faced and bitter.

It hadn't been any easier the following days, when she had had even more time to dwell on what he explained and realise exactly how bravely Severus had acted, how much punishment he had suffered on that mountainside because of her, and how, instead of thanking him, she had gone wildly accusing him of betraying her to Voldemort...

She let her eyes slide shut for a moment, as she tried to get a better grip on herself.

Those two months had been terrible.

They had been terrible also because she found herself even more physically attracted to him than ever before. After what had transpired in the cave, it was something she couldn't ignore. In shared classes, she found her eyes wandering unbidden in his direction, imagining in vivid detail how he had kissed her and caressed her, how his barriers and hers had crumbled there in the dim, candle-lit cave ...wondering, if they had stayed longer, what it would have led to...

And then the next minute she would catch herself staring and force her eyes away from her old friend, a flushed, thrumming feeling battling with a rising guilt.

. Lily still remembered how white and stricken Severus' face had been when, that day in the Muggle studies classroom, she had mentioned James Potter, but couldn't bring herself to explain what she meant.

'Don't you trust me anymore?' Severus had said.

She had seen the hurt in his eyes, his white, still face, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him of James Potter and the Stag, and how the words of the Oracle seemed to have suddenly gained more meaning the same night she returned to Hogwarts from Ben Cόrhveinn.

With James turning into a stag and her vision of him facing Voldemort in a duel, she had started to suspect that perhaps James was intended to bring about Voldemort's end, or that of the war, or both.

It had started to preoccupy her mind more and more, until she thought about the words of the Oracle in all her waking hours. What if _she_ had been chosen to interpret the Oracle's meaning? She couldn't just ignore it just because her mind was in turmoil over Severus. It was her _duty_ to find out its meaning, and perhaps discover a way to stop the war.

Every day, the _Daily Prophet_ brought news of more killings, more disappearances; more brutalities ... she _had_ to do something. She had gone from being sceptical about fortune-telling and divination, to being a firm believer.

The problem was, she didn't quite know what to believe _in_.

What did the Oracle's words mean? What if she didn't interpret it well? She still didn't have a clear idea what the mysterious words really meant, though she thought she could recall them accurately.

She toyed with the idea of going to Dumbledore for help with the interpretation , but Severus' words on Legilimency had planted the seed of doubt... not doubt in Dumbledore's honesty and good intentions - never that - but if the Headmaster _did_ read her mind, not only Severus, but Remus, James, and all the others would be in trouble... _big_ trouble!

Perhaps Severus was right about learning Occlumency. That would certainly be useful in hiding the fact that she had been, in one single night, in the company of an unregistered animagus; a werewolf; out-of-bounds students; a possessed wizard; as well as Voldemort himself and his Death Eaters; and one friend she did not want to believe lost forever.

Why were things so complicated?! And then, a few weeks before their end-of-term exams, they had got even more complicated, for she hit upon the idea of asking someone else for help. Someone who should understand about the future: Professor Magus of Divination. But his words had left her even more troubled and confused than before...

'Lily... _Lily!_ What d'you think? Muggle enough, huh?'

'Wh- what?'

'Our house – it's muggle enough, isn't it?' Alice looked with concern at her face 'What's wrong, Lily? You look like you've seen a ghost or something.'

Lily saw Mary and Jenny exchange glances. She didn't need to be told she'd been lost in a world of her own again. Her friends had been concerned for her those last weeks at Hogwarts. She mustn't let them see what she was thinking about.

'It's perfect, Alice. Apart from your two unregistered Crups, the Hippogryph in the stables at the back, and the Flutterby Bush, no-one could tell this apart from a Muggle house,' she said warmly.

They were standing on the lawn looking at a bungalow-type house built by muggles in the fifties in imitation of American-style homes fashionable at the time. Alice's Dad had bought it last year to replace the other Duelling School Voldemort had destroyed in a vicious attack last year. Voldemort had destroyed Alice's Mum, too, in the process.

'Mum would've been proud,' Alice said in a low voice 'She was always the one who prided herself on being able to blend in with our Muggle neighbours.'

No-one said anything for a while. The tragic end of Alice's mother had happened barely a year ago, and it was still fresh in the young witch's mind. Lily knew that it was what had driven the then Gryffindor ex-Prefect to drop out of school and help her father set up a new duelling school in the middle of the Dorset countryside, far away from prying eyes. And though Alice did not mention it as often as she had in the first harsh months following her mother's death, _revenge_ that was the main driving force behind Alice's eagerness to become an Auror.

'That's not a problem here,' Jenny piped up after a while 'You're far away from everywhere here, and the woods behind the house shelter it from view.'

'The woods provide an ideal place for ambush simulation. We've had some fun there.' Frank said wryly 'Painful fun, though.'

'We don't mind Muggles seeing the house, Jenny,' Alice explained 'it looks pretty normal – it's wizards we're wary of. But my Dad put up a whole arsenal of Protective Charms over the place – ' She stopped, for Jenny's eyes were becoming rounder, and she suddenly pointed up at the sky.

'What on earth is that?!' she said.

Lily turned to look and sure enough, high above the woods at the back of the Walker's house a tiny speck was coming towards them. It was bigger than a broomstick and metallic, for the afternoon sun glinted off its sides. A small aeroplane, Lily thought, at first, but as it drew closer, she could see it was too small, and the shape was all wrong...

'It's a motor cycle!' exclaimed Jenny, who as a muggleborn, recognised it immediately.

Lily nodded, seeing the shape better. 'With a side-car,' she added 'An old model.'

She glanced round at her friends, but Frank and Alice had their wands drawn and next second, Alice was pelting towards the house. Before she reached the front door, it opened and a middle-aged wizard, Alice's father, came running out.

'I heard the Intruder Alarm!' he started, wand in hand.

'Mr Walker, Mr Walker, I think I know who – ' But Mary MacDonald's voice was drowned out by the two Crups, who came running up barking madly at the strange, loud humming noise from the sky.

Alice's father was already pointing his wand grimly in its direction, and Lily followed suit, thinking that this must have been a similar scenario to when Death Eaters had destroyed the Walkers duelling school a year ago.

But there was something wrong – Death Eaters would use _brooms, _not a Muggle motor cycle!

Frank seemed to think so too, for he was already lowering his wand and squinting up at the sky as the noise grew louder and the motorcycle and its riders flew closer.

'Shut up!' Mr walker yelled suddenly at the two Crups.

They stuck their forked tail between their legs, thus appearing to be nothing more than common Jack Russell dogs, and slunk behind the wizard.

'They can't land...' Mr Walker was saying 'I've got Arial Repelling Charms over the whole place...'

But his voice was laced with doubt, for those Charms, Lily knew, were designed for broomsticks.

Mr Walker, I think that's Sirius Black on his new MotorBike!' Mary MacDonald interrupted finally, 'I know he got one this summer.'

'Alice, weren't your friends all supposed to arrive by Floo?' Mr Walker addressed his daughter a trifle irritatedly, and lowered his wand.

'Yeah, sure they were, but Sirius and James always did things their own way.' Alice said, suppressing a grin.

'I didn't know Sirius and James were coming,' Lily whispered to Mary, feeling her face lose colour.

She did not want to see James Potter. She needed some time away from everything...away from the source of a lot of her troubles about the oracle.

'I suggested to Alice that they should have a look at this place, too' Mary said, smoothly 'Remus was supposed to have come too, but he said he has an appointment somewhere else at the end of August.'

Lily frowned. Full moon was on the 28 th August, in five days time, so obviously, Remus wasn't coming. Lily glanced sharply at Mary, who had a sly grin on her face and wouldn't meet her eyes. Jenny, too, looked guiltily pleased with herself.

Lily felt her previous pallor disappear as an annoyed flush rose in her cheeks. She felt fairly sure those two girls had kept her in the dark as they connived to set her up with James Potter. Mary herself long had eyes for Sirius, and she had just stopped going out with Melchior Abbott. Jenny wasn't immune to Sirius' handsome good looks and easy charm, either.

Lily suppressed a sigh of frustration. Probably this was her fault. She had been a bit worried and withdrawn recently and her friends must have cooked up this idea, thinking it would cheer her up. They had known for over a year now that James was keenly interested in her, and they been quick to notice she and James were on first-name basis now, and that she had suggested him as Prefect. They must have put two and two together and come up with anything but 4, because if there was one person she really did NOT want to see right now, was James Potter.

Not after what Magus told her.

The droning hum of the motorcycle grew to an ear-splitting crescendo as it decelerated and sank lower, skimming the trees and then the shining metallic beast touched down on the gravelly path beyond the lawn, skidding to a stop some yards further down.

Lily watched, suddenly very nervous, as the two windswept riders got off and walked towards them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Motorcycles, Marauders, and Magus**

The two riders jumped nimbly off the motorcycle and walked towards them but they hadn't gone far before they were surrounded by the other teenagers, eager to see Sirius' new flying motorcycle. Lily followed more reluctantly.

'It's amazing, Sirius!' Jenny enthused 'It looks just like my Uncle's old Triumph Bonville. His couldn't fly though...'

'Yeah, well, it's an old model,' Sirius said, looking slightly crestfallen 'I can't afford anything more modern, under present circumstances. But look –' he took his wand out of his jeans pocket, shook back his long black hair, and bent over the sidecar, poking the clamping mechanism a few times with his wand. With a clunk, the Sidecar separated from the motorcycle.

'For greater aerodynamic speed and manoeuvrability' James Potter continued, climbing onto of the motorcycle 'This way it's as fast as a broomstick.'

'Can travel in dual mode, unlike a broomstick,' Sirius grinned 'So it'll pass unnoticed in Muggle traffic and yet soar like the best Cleansweeps or Nimbus, when you want it to. Oh - hello, Mr Walker.'

'Hello, Sirius. Your bike just crashed through all my protective enchantments. What in Merlin's name have you done to that thing?'

'A few modifications...'

'Speed enhancement spells; Levitation and Flying Spells; a nifty little Hovering Charm; –' James Potter offered.

'Okay, okay – I see I'll have to add flying Muggle motorcycles to my list of repelling spells!' Mr Walker shook his head in amused disbelief.

'Well we were kind of hoping to take everyone for a spin before you do that – it's a completely different sensation to riding a broom!' Potter interjected, getting off the bike.

Mr Walker found himself the object of some very pleading looks from everyone present, especially Mary and Jenny.

He sighed resignedly and turned to go. 'Alright then, but don't go beyond the treeline - I don't want to have my intruder alarm blazing every few minutes!'

There were squeals of delight from the girls as everyone wanted first turn on the bike. Lily thought that the real attraction for Jenny and Mary was riding pillion with the handsome Sirius Black!

Riding pillion was something she, Lily, had only done once – and it was on a broomstick with Severus. She frowned, her mind automatically shying away from those thoughts. She was becoming better at it. The two Crups were nosing the strange metallic beast curiously, wondering whether it would roar into life again. One of them lifted its leg up against the wheel but was sent yelping away by some sparks from Frank Longbottom's wand as the teenagers crowded once more round the motorcycle.

'A penny for your thoughts?'

James Potter had come up to where she was still standing a bit apart from the rest and his hazel eyes looked concerned behind his round spectacles.

'Oh – I –I wasn't thinking about anything,' she stammered 'Er...nice bike. Really.'

'That motorcycle –' James said, grinning as he watched Mary MacDonald sit down in the seat behind Sirius and wrap her arms tightly about his chest as the machine revved into life ' – is Sirius Black's _true_ love. Girls take second place. For now at least.'

Lily smiled as she heard Mary's excited squeals and Sirius' barking laughter overhead 'Are you sure?'

'Well, okay, girls come a _very_ close second to the bike...'

She shook her head with a wry smile. 'For the love of a metallic beast, so many broken hearts are left behind in its exhaust-laden wake….'

'Well, yeah – but Sirius is having a rough time this summer. Some fun'll do him good.'

'Is it true then? I heard he's severed ties with his family.'

'_I _heard he ran away from home,' Frank came up and had been listening in, looking serious.

'Sirius'll be fine,' James said, emphatically 'He's living at my house now – makes it easier to get up to mischief together,' he grinned, but then his smile faded. 'But yeah, life hasn't been easy for old Padfoot.'

'Is there no hope for reconciliation then?' Lily asked.

James shook his head. 'Nope. The whole family are close-minded, pure-blood supporters of you-know-who, and the mother, especially, is a rabid elitist. She called Sirius some pretty obscene things a mother should never call her son, and now he wants nothing more to do with her or the rest of them.'

'That's tough, mate.' Frank said, frowning.

James shrugged. 'Sirius seems happier. Anyway, an uncle of his - you know old Alphard, the eccentric? He's promised him some gold, so Padfoot will get his own place soon.'

The motorcycle roared into a stop and Mary got off looking excited and windswept. Sirius held out his hand with a gallant gesture to Jenny, who took it eagerly and hopped on behind him.

'D'you think Sirius'll let me take Alice for a spin?' Frank asked James. 'Is it difficult to learn to ride that thing?'

'Not once it's airborne. But it takes some getting used to on the ground. Don't worry – Sirius'll teach you. He'd love nothing better than putting that beast through its paces!'

'Really? Great! Oh - here they come now. I'll ask him!' And Frank moved off to wait until the motorcycle landed.

'So – do you know how to ride that bike?' Lily asked, feeling suddenly awkward, for James Potter was looking at her appraisingly.

'I do, now – with Padfoot's obsession, we've been practically _living_ on that thing! But I'm more of a broomstick man, if you know what I mean.'

'I had no doubt.' Lily made as if to join the others.

'It's ok – I'm not going to bore you with Quidditch talk!' James said hastily, moving as though to stop her.

'I wasn't ... I mean, I didn't-' Lily flushed in confusion. James had probably realised she was trying to avoid him. 'Why should Quidditch talk bore me?'

'Many girls don't like it. They just _pretend _to like it when they're going out with you,' James said with a rueful smile, 'It's very flattering, but it _does_ tend to give you a fat head – you know, the one that makes it difficult for your broomstick to get off the ground!'

Lily looked at him sharply, but he wasn't angry or being sarcastic. He was smiling, and there was a twinkle in his eyes as he echoed her words from over a year ago.

'Many girls pretend lots of other stuff too, for one reason or another. Makes you think you're the bee's knees,' James continued, turning to face her, with a quizzical look on his face, 'You're very different, Lily.'

'Is that a compliment, or an insult?'

'Definitely a compliment. Listen, there's something I want to ask you –'

'Look, James, I –' she started, shifting uncomfortably.

'No – listen: what I wanted to ask you was whether you received the Owl from Hogwarts.'

'The one with the exam results? Yes, I did – no spectacular results, but I passed in all my subjects.'

'Not _that_ owl. The one that came a few hours ago. You must have just missed it.'

'This morning? How d'you know I had an owl?'

'Because I received a letter from Hogwarts too, and it mentioned the fact that you should be getting a similar one.'

She looked at him blankly.

'It must be on its way here, but I can tell you what's in the letter it's carrying, if you want.' James spoke with a boyish eagerness that suited him much better than his usual overconfident boastfulness.

'Why, what's in it?'

'You've been made Headgirl!' James said with a broad grin. 'I thought you would've guessed,' he added, seeing her astounded look.

She shook her head mutely. Her mind had been on other things for months.

'Hang on- when you said you had a similar letter, did you mean...?' she started.

He nodded meaningfully.

'Oh ...uh… great, James! Congratulations are in order, I guess. But I thought ... well, are you pleased about it? You weren't, about being a Prefect.'

'Goes to show you know me better than I know myself. Turns out I have a natural talent for ordering people around... but well, seriously - they must've dithered for ages over picking me as Headboy with my detention-riddled track record, and very short spell as Prefect. That's why the owls came so late.'

'They could've been dithering over _me_.'

'Nah – they've had your name down as Headgirl since you became Prefect! In fact, I'm pretty sure even Slughorn would've put in a good word for you, even over his own Slytherin Prefects.'

'I'm not quite sure I appreciate that. I didn't know.'

'Well, you do seem a bit out of things recently, ever since -'

'I'm fine,' she replied hastily, steering the conversation away from herself and what happened a few months ago on a Scottish mountain, 'I just never bothered about Prefects, or being a Head Girl, because Alice had been Prefect before she resigned.'

'Like Remus.'

Lily glanced at him sharply. He looked uncomfortable, almost guilty. Well, perhaps, he should be. Remus had told her he'd resigned because he couldn't fulfil his duties properly with his incapacitating lycanthropy taking over his life every month. But Lily suspected that there was something else. When the Marauders' wilder antics had ended up with people getting hurt, Remus had borne the brunt of the responsibility on himself for not stopping their excesses (though he had managed to curb them sometimes). She knew this had been long troubling him.

'How's Remus?' she asked.

'Would've been here, if it wasn't for his furry little problem. But that means he'll be fine for the start of school term. Peter's on holiday with his Mum and some distant cousins, or he would've been here too. I guess the Marauders will have to wait till September to re-unite. ' James grinned, and Lily thought that his upbeat attitude to his friend's Lycanthropy was, in a way, exactly what Remus needed. Without it, she felt sure Remus would beat himself over the head with it far more than he did already.

'I still wish Remus was Prefect,' James continued, in a low voice.

Lily glanced at him, surprised.

'You did a good job last term, once you put your mind to it.'

'Yeah, well... Prefect, perhaps, but I don't know about this Head Boy lark... After all, _you_ are the reason why they've had to pick me.'

'What?! How come?'

'As I said, you've been targeted for the post long ago, but as for me... You see, traditionally the Headboy and Head girl come from the same House, so they've _had_ to choose me, though apparently, they've dithered a lot about it.'

'Are you sure? When we were in second year, we had a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor as Head Boy and girl.'

'Yeah, well … there are some exceptions, but usually they come from the same house. I suppose the idea behind it is that they would be a couple who worked best together.' James glanced sideways at her. Something about his unusually serious expression made her feel suddenly uncomfortable.

'I'm – I'm sure they've picked you on your own merits, James,' she said, not quite wanting to meet his steady gaze 'I think you did very well in the end as a Prefect. Dumbledore must've been impressed, otherwise he wouldn't have chosen you. In the end, it's his decision on who is Head Boy or Girl, isn't it?'

James nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. 'Perhaps it is. Last time I was in trouble and hauled to his office, Dumbledore told me he believes in giving people second chances... and well, perhaps... so should you.'

She looked up quickly when he said this. He was still looking at her steadily but there was no mistaking the faintly-pleading look in his eyes. And Lily suspected he wasn't talking about his eligibility for the post of Prefect or Headboy. She froze to the spot, not sure what to say – she didn't want to hurt his feelings, especially now that he was making some effort not to be his usual arrogant self ... especially now, after Magus' revelation ...

Look OOOOOut!' A sudden cry made them both look round in time to see Sirius' motorcycle hurtle towards them. Frank Longbottom wobbled precariously on its seat before swerving violently to one side. James, quick as a flash, cast a Cushioning Charm before the unfortunate Frank hit the gravel. Lily reacted a second later, and sent a Freezing Charm over the motorcycle, stopping its spinning wheels and roaring engine dead.

'You ok?' Lily asked, offering her hand. Frank took it and got to his feet.

'I'm fine – but that Muggle contraption is _wild_! Hey – I didn't break it, did I?'

James was examining the bike. He shook his head. 'Not as much as a scratch to the paintwork, thanks to Lily. Where's everybody? And what in Merlin's name possessed you to ride it alone, Frank?'

'It's Muggle – how hard can it be?' Frank was still looking at it as though he couldn't believe his eyes.

'You, Frank Longbottom , are a Pureblood and make the same mistake all Purebloods do: you underestimate Muggles and their inventions,' James told him with a grim smile, as he wheeled the motorcycle back to the path 'I spent half this summer on my arse being thrown off by this brute, before I realised that. I don't even know how to ride a bicy-cycle! All Muggle children by the age of seven, know how to ride that!'

'Uh... yeah, well, I'll keep that in mind. Alice dragged Sirius in to look at the Duelling Rooms so I thought I'd have a go while they're busy. I thought it couldn't be harder than riding a broom.'

'It isn't. It's just ...different.' James was looking at her and for one panicked moment she thought he would ask her to go for a ride with him.

She didn't want to. Not with James. And truthfully – not with anyone, right now. But James' attention had been suddenly drawn to a small speck high in the sky. Lily followed his gaze and recognised the smooth gliding flight of an owl.

'Well, I guess the owl finally found you', James said, turning towards her.

At that moment, the others came back out of the house chattering and laughing noisily.

'I think it's time to tell the rest the good news,' James said, wheeling the motorcycle near the sidecar. 'For better or for worse, might as well celebrate while we can.'

The owl banked and dived towards her, settling with a silent flapping of wings on the motorcycle handles. In its beak was a letter with the Hogwarts Crest.

* * *

><p>His breath smelt of stale beer and vomit. He had his unshaven face pushed up close to his, and bleary eyes glared at him belligerently, their once-sharp blue clouded, red-veined and tinged with the first signs of jaundice. Severus resisted the urge to turn his face away, for he couldn't stand offensive smells, but instead, he gazed at his father levelly, becoming calmer just as his father grew more angry. He knew this would infuriate him even more.<p>

The tip of the black ebony wand hovered menacingly between them.

'Yer muther isn't 'ere to interfere 'n save yer foockin, useless arse! An I'll give yer what fer, if ye wave that bloody stick in my face! Yer not s'posed ta use it outa tha' freak school o yourn!'

His father knew some wizarding rules, but not all.

'I can now. I'm seventeen and that means I'm of age. And I go out whenever I want.'

'Why, you –!' His father lunged forward, raising his fist, but tripped over a footstool he was too drunk to see, and flew sprawling across the living room floor.

Severus backed out towards the kitchen, looking with disgust at his father's wasted frame struggling helplessly to get up off the floor. It would take him ages, in his state. Better not risk hexing him – he would probably drink himself into a greater stupor afterwards, and his mum would have to bear the brunt of it. It had been like this all summer. Exactly like the previous summer. Nothing seemed to have changed in the Snape household – it seemed as though it was frozen for all time in hate-riddled squalor.

He had practically always been allowed to come and go as he pleased from Spinner's End. (Actually, rather than 'allowed', as a child, he had been ignored and neglected enough to be able to escape to other quieter, but just as squalid, places). When Lily had walked into his life, he had had another option, and previously unpretentious locations had been rendered suddenly beautiful - like their spot by the river.

That was all gone now. However, there was a small silver lining in all this. Now, for the first time in his life at Spinner's End, he could escape to better places anytime he wanted, far away from Cokeworth. He was no longer confined to his bedroom in a haze of bored hatred for everything around him, resorting to shooting down flies in frustration...

Sometimes, he would take the old broom he had stolen from Hogwarts, but mostly he preferred the neat, clean efficiency of apparition. His continuous disappearances worried his mother, for he refused to say where he was going, and they angered his father, who thought he should stay home and find a summer job, but he felt restless anywhere in Cokeworth, where every familiar street, building and park reminded him of _her_ and what summer had once meant for both of them.

His rebelliousness caused his father to rant and rave that no freak son of his was going to flout his authority, even though it should have been abundantly clear, even to his drink-addled mind, that he could do nothing about it now. But Tobias Snape had a mule-headed pride, a remnant characteristic of his upbringing, that would not allow him to back down, or bow down to who was clearly his superior. He had stood up to dark wizards, the Karkaroffs, one day, and the resulting Cruciatus torture had broken him. It had driven him over the edge and from that point, it had been a fast downhill spiral for Tobias Snape.

He pushed those thoughts from his mind, for they were guilt-ridden, and it was easier pitying his father, rather than feeling guilty over what happened.

He walked into the kitchen, noting the disarray of dirty dishes, empty bottles and a greasy cauldron in a corner. His mother, never a proud housewife, had lapsed into increasingly desperate slovenliness these past couple of years, her mind occupied by her husband's health. She was secretly slipping magic potion into his food now, because Tobias Snape didn't trust it anymore. Severus could never understand why she was trying to keep him alive – sometimes he thought it was just to have someone to fight with – or else perhaps it was a way of assuring herself that _she_ was still alive.

With a sigh, Severus waved his wand, tidying up as much as he could and even set the plates to washing themselves, before the sound of expletives and moving chairs told him his father had finally found his feet and was heading for the kitchen.

He calmly walked out of the kitchen back door into the small yard behind the house, where his mother's protective spells were not active, and dissapparated into the cool, dusk air.

He welcomed the squeezing sensation of disapparition because it forcefully cleared the rancid smell and air out of his lungs, and when he finally was able to breathe again, it was the chilly but clean smell of woodland.

He looked at a large oak tree nearby. It was called, incongruously enough, the Trysting Tree by the Rosier family: an ancient oak, at the edge of the sprawling Rosier estates. It had a huge, thick trunk with rune-signs carved into its bark, and its arthritic branches were twisted and gnarled. Some of them were actually leaning downwards to rest on the ground again, with the weight of their years. A shadow detached itself from behind the tree-trunk.

He clasped his wand tightly, for the Rosier clan were notoriously trigger-happy with their wands.

'I thought you weren't coming,' Evan Rosier moved out of the shadow of the tree and Severus could see the faint outline of his face beneath the hooded cloak he wore.

'I'm actually early, Evan,' Severus answered, laconically.

'D'you get the potion?'

Severus pulled at a thin silver chain round his neck and drew a small crystal phial from around his neck.

'Good,' Rosier answered 'Now let's get going. We need to be back by midnight or mother will smell a rat. I don't want my whole family tracking us.'

'I'm ready.'

'Wait a sec –'' Evan darted under the Trysting Tree once more and pointed his wand at its thick grey bark.

'Flagrate!' he whispered, and a thin pencil of fire from his wand drew a strange symbol on its trunk.

Severus made a mental note to ask him what he had magically graffitied, for Rosier came running out from beneath the tree, nodded a signal to him, and dissapparated, his pale face beneath the hood disappearing into the gathering darkness.

Severus put his hand on the wand in his belt and turned round on the spot, making sure he never took his hand off his wand. He might need it where he was going.

* * *

><p>She was running wildly in and out of a whole forest of Standing Stones but she couldn't get away - His eyes were following her : white, glowing, pupil-less orbs with bloody tears leaking out of them to trail down the wrinkles of his old face.<p>

'_You have been touched by the Spirit of the Forest,' _Mendrick's dry, scratchy voice said_ 'You have the same golden aura, and only through you can the world be saved from a never-ending war!'_

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she didn't want Mendrick near her – she didn't want to go through that hellish experience again! She hid behind a Standing Stone and threw her arms over her head as though that would prevent her from being Possessed or whatever the voices in her head had meant!

'_It's your destiny to save us all_...' Mendrick had reappeared in front of her, gnarled and twisted with age like the old bone-dry tree he had turned into when she first met him. His eyes were no longer oozing blood, or glowing, but they were still looking at her fixedly, accusingly.

This was all wrong - _Mendrick was dead_!

'What the hell am I supposed to do?!' she shouted at Mendrick.

But the old wizard was transforming – the ragged robes and animal skins were gone, and someone very tall stood in his place: a dark-robed wizard, with a hood that threw his face into ominous shadow. Lily cringed and moved backwards as the tall, dark wizard took a silent step towards her, but at her back was the unyielding Menhir... the tall wizard came closer...the darkness beneath the hood turned towards her ... she knew that gliding walk, and she knew the evil menace that was beneath the hood...her heart pounding in her chest, she felt strangely helpless, almost paralysed... she could see the strange red eyes beneath the hood as Voldemort's thin lips twisted into a cruel smile ...and then there was a flash of green light.

She woke up suddenly, sitting up in bed – her heart still beating wildly and her breathing ragged. It was a dream – just a dream!

_A nightmare_! She struggled to untangle herself from her bedclothes and then lay back in bed, passing a shaky hand across her forehead.

It wasn't the first time.

Ever since she had got back from Ben Cόrhveinn, Mendrick haunted her dreams in confusing ways. Not only Mendrick, but Voldemort too. The first urging her to fulfil her destiny, and the latter menacing the far reaches of her mind.

The strange thing was that although Voldemort's recurring presence in her dreams was quite frightening, yet she did not find it so upsetting as Mendrick's words about 'saving' the wizarding world.

These words had haunted both her nights and her waking hours in the months that followed her adventure on the mountain. She felt she ought to do something about it, but didn't quite know what. But the longer she remained idle, the more people's lives were affected by the war.

It made her feel both uneasy and guilty. Her previous nonchalance and disbelief about the mysterious forces that could shape one's destiny had completely disappeared, to be replaced by a firm belief that such magic could, and did, exist. And if there was even the slimmest chance she could somehow turn the tides of war, then she had to find out how. The sense of urgency grew over the last two months at Hogwarts till finally she had hit upon the idea of asking Professor Magus.

Lily got up and walked to the window. The room Alice had given her was very small and it felt stuffy. All the rooms were small and Spartan in this wing of the sprawling Bungalow, for they were usually occupied by the students of the Walkers Duelling Academy during the school months, and there was none of the cosseted decor that she was used to at Hogwarts. A cool breeze blew in from the garden outside and a waxing moon peered fitfully from behind the clouds. She leaned her head against the open window, thankful for the cool wind against her forehead.

She was still in the dark about what she had to do. Professor Magus' words had left her as confused as ever, though his promise of help had given her some hope.

He had been very surprised to see her.

'Ms Evans, is it?' he said as she climbed into the dark circular room at the top of the North tower. 'How may I help you?'

The Divination classroom was just as dark and sepulchral as she remembered, with black curtains and drapes over everything, so that even the afternoon sun was shut out. The only lights were from softly-glowing glass orbs arranged on a shelf that ran round the room.

'I – I was wondering if you could ...um ... help me decipher something, sir'

'Ah - you shouldn't have given up Divination, Miss Evans. Not you. I assume what you want me to decipher has to do with foretelling the future?'

'Sort of, sir'

She had felt the same unease as when she was still 13 years old and those large, protuberant eyes used to fix on her with a doom-laden gaze. She had grown taller than the stooped white-haired wizard since then, but the sense of foreboding that he instilled in her was the same.

'May I ask why the sudden change of heart? I had got the impression that you and your friend, Mr Snape, did not place much faith in Divination in spite of what the cards were clearly telling you.'

'Actually Sir, we never did find out what the Cards were telling us. You ... um... you never explained. '

'Ah yes – well, if you want me to, I will. You are of age now. I don't profess to remember all the spreads my students tell, but yours were ... unusual' The sad watery eyes were fixed on her once more, but suddenly Lily did not want to know – whatever the cards foretold of her future and that of Severus' could not be good. She did not need to hear the truth – she could see it quite plainly in Magus' sad eyes, and feel it in her own heart. And her heart had been bruised enough. She had to focus on what important now.

'Perhaps another time, Professor. What I came to ask you about actually concerns something else. Some_one_ else. You see, a friend of mine was sort of foretold her future in these mysterious words and visions, and she can't understand what they mean...'

'Why doesn't _your friend_ come to me herself, then?'

He didn't believe her. She wasn't too good at lying convincingly. She cast around for an excuse.

'Look Miss Evans, I can only interpret the future directly, and certainly not for third parties... if _your friend_ cannot come -'

'Well, Sir – actually, the words were said to _me_, but I'd rather not say by whom they were said, or under what circumstances.'

'I hope this isn't about some _boyfriend_, Miss Evans?'

'No. No, Sir – of course not'

'I'm sorry for doubting you, but I've been bombarded far too often with requests for foretelling love and marriage from my female students. I suppose, you being a Prefect and all...'

'Professor Magus, I would never come for something so frivolous, I – '

'Oh - sometimes love is not _frivolous,_ Miss Evans – if you were to believe your own Cards, love is a tumultuous, powerful force that can sweep everything in its path and endures the ravages of time and mortality... But you said that is not what you came for...'

The pale watery eyes were fixed on her again, and she hesitated, her mind snagging on the meaning of his words about her cards.

'Well…' she said finally 'It has to do with the War and the Spirit of the Forest-'

'The Spirit of the Forest? What's that?'

Magus was looking at her blankly, and she felt her hope sink. If he didn't know what the Spirit of the Forest was, how could he help her?

'It's a doe, Professor. Even Hagrid called her that.'

'Yes, I heard Professor Kettleburn refer to the deer in the Forbidden Forest that way too, but I have always assumed it was a figure of speech.'

'It's more than that. Much more.'

'Really? Hmmm, interesting – neither Kettleburn nor the Gamekeeper ever mentioned anything, and I have spoken to them often enough about both magical and non-magical animals in the forest.' But to her surprise, Magus did not dismiss her words immediately. He seemed intrigued, rather than disbelieving.

'They don't know anything either, Professor. I asked them, but like you, they think it just an expression or something.'

'You know, Miss Evans, deer have seldom appeared either as visions or as symbols during any of my students' various readings of the future, with one notable exception…'

'Who?'

'Well, Miss Evans, I should only discuss and interpret omens with that student about whom they were made… the Headmaster disapproves of it,' Magus frowned and a fleeting look of annoyance crossed his features 'Actually, the Headmaster disapproves of Divination in its entirety…he thinks my students should not know about the bad omens.'

'So this deer was a bad omen then?'

'I don't think so. At least, not this particular one. It was a magnificent Stag –'

'James Potter!'

'Oh – so he told you then? Well, it makes sense – with him being your co-Prefect now, everything is falling into place.'

'What d'you mean? And what does the Stag mean?'

'The Stag's symbolism is the one thing that I cannot interpret well. It has been appearing ever more often for Potter in whatever Divination method we are using – tea leaves, crystal gazing, Pyromancy….' Magus turned his large, sad watery eyes on her 'As for the rest of Mr Potter's readings….' He gave a prolonged sigh 'As you know, those are not good.'

Lily did NOT know , but she felt her face grow pale as she remembered vividly exactly why she had given up Divination in third year.

'But the future can be changed,' she said, with a note of desperation in her voice

'Not insomuch as you believe in it.'

'That's the second time someone told me that,' she retorted, a trifle irritated 'Anyway, James seems to be taking it well.'

Magus shrugged. 'Mr Potter is young and resilient. He also tends to discard and ignore the signs and omens that are unpleasant to him, and focus on the pleasing ones.'

'Oh – so there's some good ... er… Omens, then.'

'Of course, Miss Evans. It is not only doom and gloom, you know.'

Lily's eyebrows rose up, but she tried to keep her face straight, for Magus was continuing:

'It was foretold Mr Potter would pass through a time of great change. He has been my student for many years now and his future is getting clearer: I have seen a tri-partite fiery sword appear in his hands ever more frequently, when we do Pyromancy – readings made in fire or flames – it's a rare sign, but a very unmistakeable one: there are great and brave deeds in his future, for he is to challenge a great evil… Mr Potter likes this particular aspect of his future, of course – better than Quidditch champion, he says …' Magus ended, more prosaically.

But his next words made Lily's heart skip a beat:

'But I have seen other signs – signs Mr Potter is determined to ignore: I have seen the Grimm : not only in his tea leaves, but actually following him, like a black shadow, across the school grounds. Not once, but many times, over these last two years, for I am often out at night observing the signs in the heavens; I have also seen a crossed skull in Mr Potter's future; a single crow and a tear-shaped opal….. Oh, and I have seen a Doe. _That_ is what I wanted to tell you.'

'A Doe?'

'Yes, it has appeared on occasion, together with the Stag, and in Pyromancy the creature always appears in a golden fire. I was wondering whether this deer has anything to do with the vision you saw – this 'Spirit of the Forest'.'

'I am thinking it just might,' Lily said, her voice barely above a whisper.

A hubbub of voices from the trapdoor below indicated that students were gathering for the afternoon lesson.

'I'll tell you what, Miss Evans,' Magus said, 'This summer I was planning a visit to an old friend of mine in Great Bedwyn village in Wiltshire. He lives near one of the oldest forests of England, the Savernake Forest, and is an expert on animal fortunetelling. If there is anyone who would know how to separate magical folklore from fact it would be him. Don't worry, we will get to the bottom of this. Come and see me in September – I will have an answer for you,'

That had been almost four months ago.

In a weeks' time it would be September and the start of her last year at Hogwarts. And Magus would finally shed some light on the meaning of the mysterious Doe. Mendrick had said it was an ancient spirit embodied in a doe, that was passed on from one generation to the next, but that didn't explain everything.

The cool night breeze from the open window fanned her face, but, as on many similar nights this summer, it hadn't calmed her jumbled thoughts, nor lulled her to sleep. She was thinking it must be close to three in the morning when a movement on the lawn outside caught her eye. Under the light of the waxing moon a large, dark, shadow of some animal loped silently across the lawn–but it was too big to be one of the Crups – anyway, the little dogs had been locked in the basement tonight.

Just then, the animal came to a stop and looked back towards the bungalow, its retinas burned brightly for a split second, then it was gone towards the woods at the back of the house. Lily's heat was pounding: it was a black wolf. She had seen it another time, fleetingly, on Ben Cόrhveinn , but had forgotten about it, given the extenuating circumstances then. It had appeared a bit before Potter had removed his Invisibility cloak to face Voldemort.

The Grimm.

Magus' ominous words came back to her. The _Grimm _followed James Potter like a shadow- at Hogwarts; on Ben Corvheinn; even here in the Dorset countryside. And he knew it!

Magus had made it clear that James Potter knew all this, but shrugged off anyway. He was a true Gryffindor!

She, on the other hand, had always struggled with Magus' gloomy ways. Severus' scepticism had helped, but she had been glad to give up Divination. Her attitude to Divination had remained sceptical until events on Ben Cόrhveinn convinced her otherwise. And now – another ominous sign had appeared right here in front of her!

She didn't know how long she stood in shocked silence. Perhaps only a few minutes, or even seconds, but she was startled out of her thoughts by a soft knock on her door.

'Come in!' she said, without thinking.

The door creaked open and the tousled, bespectacled head of James Potter peered round the door.


End file.
